Love and Money
by Silverlake
Summary: Sequel to Training Master Mindelan. Kel's proteges adjust to life as knights and Kel adjusts to her rapidly growing family with input from Neal, Wyldon, Alanna, Daine, Numair, George, Dom, and Owen. Complete! Fluffy epilogue posted!
1. Chapter 1

_By the popular demand of reviewers and the violent insistence of certain characters who high-jacked my imagination, I'm back with a brief follow-up of sorts to Training Master Mindelan. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed Training Master Mindelan and I hope you'll enjoy getting a taste of what happens next._

_Disclaimer: as always, location and (most) characters belong to Tamora Pierce. Due to a nasty summer cold, the following writing was proofread under the influence of nighttime decongestants. Speaking of disorientation, if you haven't read Training Master Mindelan (and its prequel, The Scarlet Shield) this will probably be very confusing. This little episode takes place a few months after the close of Training Master Mindelan, during the spring of Penelope and Dalton's first year as knights. _

"Has Kel gotten big and slow yet?" Tobe asked when he met Dalton emerging from the stables after an early morning ride.

"You haven't seen her yet?"

"No, my Rider group only just got in late last night," Tobe told him as they began walking together towards the palace.

"So what you're really asking is 'how moody is she?'" Dalton muttered.

Tobe grinned and shrugged.

"Until last week, not very. If possible, she's been more patient than ever— almost patient enough to make everyone else impatient. But lately, she's been a bit more temperamental. Penelope and I took it upon ourselves to give the pages a healthy dose of yelling yesterday and we earned our own healthy dose of glaring for it." Dalton glanced at the practice courts as they passed and saw that his wife had already come and gone. "And she's gotten big without slowing down. She's still meeting Penelope for morning glaive practice most days."

"And probably winning bouts too," Tobe guessed. "Last time Neal complained she was taking advantage of the extra weight to beat him at duels."

"Typical," Dalton muttered. And they walked silently for a short while, entering the palace through a side door and making their way towards Kel's and Dalton's quarters, before Dalton asked, "how are things with Tessa?"

"Good," Tobe said brightly. "She's visiting her family this week but—"

Neal passed by just then, saying brightly, "I hear you and Penelope are going to have twins."

"Wait! What?" Dalton called, glancing down to be sure that the floor was, indeed, still beneath his feet. "Impossible! She can't—we—"

But Neal only nodded cheerfully and vanished into the infirmary, leaving Dalton to cope with a terrifying shift in his understanding of reality. Tobe blinked once or twice and waved at Dalton's bewildered face before patting his back and stepping away, as though he feared Dalton's confusion or apparent virility might be contagious.

"I'm going to see Kel," Tobe called over his shoulder.

Dalton gave a dazed nod and then sprinted off toward the room he shared with Penelope, trying to recall every detail of her behavior and appearance over the past few weeks. He couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary and he thought he remembered catching a glimpse of her charm the previous evening as she undressed. But she had seemed rather tired the past few days and—

He collided with someone running in the opposite direction, cracking his skull so sharply that he didn't recognize Penelope until he'd landed on top of her.

She blinked up at him through watering eyes as he propped himself up onto his elbows. "Are you all right?"

"Lightly bruised," he muttered as they helped each other to their feet. "And you?"

"Fine." She tucked a stray bit of hair back into her braid. "I'm late though—I was looking for you."

"Late?" Dalton repeated, trying desperately to ignore the idea his mind was forming based upon a conversation he'd overheard between Alanna and one of the female Riders.

"Yes, late." She grabbed his hand and began pulling him down the corridor. "We're supposed to be meeting Mindelan in her quarters for breakfast. She said she had a few important things to discuss with us." She dropped his hand and they continued trotting side-by-side towards the training master's rooms.

"Penelope—can I uh—you're not expecting—"

"I expect she's going to tell us which pages she wants us to take as squires," Penelope said anxiously.

"So then you're not actually—you said you were late—but you're not actually—"

"Not what?" Penelope furrowed her brow and eyed him worriedly.

"Neal, er, congratulated me earlier on your being—" he blushed and glanced up and down the hall to be sure it was clear—"pregnant with twins."

"He what?" Penelope stopped very suddenly; Dalton wasn't sure if this were from shock or because they had nearly reached Kel's door. "He's been threatening to go mad for years but now he's actually done it. He can't even blame me for it this time."

"You're not then—I wouldn't mind if you were—that would be wonderful, only—"Dalton's voice faltered and he decided that George had been right—he really was an abysmal liar.

"It wouldn't, and I'm definitely not," Penelope assured him fervently, as she knocked on the door. "And I certainly won't ever have anything to do with twins if I can help it."

"I'm afraid you might be mistaken there," Dom murmured as he opened the door for them.

They just had time to shoot one another alarmed glances before Kel called for them to join her at her small—and rather crowded—breakfast table. She did not launch into her speech right away but waited for them to serve themselves porridge and bread and jam while she listened to Tobe describe his Rider group's unpleasant encounter with a herd of centaurs.

Finally, just as Dalton was reaching for another slice of bread, Kel cleared her throat and fixed her gaze upon her two assistants. She stared at them just long enough—and with eyes just moist enough—to make Penelope twitch uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to take the twins," Kel told them. Dom—gathering his things on the other side of the room—twisted his face into something halfway between a flinch and a smile.

Dalton swallowed. "Twins?" he repeated, glancing anxiously at his wife.

"Twins," Kel said matter-of-factly, laying a hand on her abdomen.

"And when you say twins—"

"I mean Levina and Larissa. There aren't any other twins in training?"

"Oh, you want us to take _the_ twins as squires," Penelope gushed in a relieved sort of way.

Kel nodded slowly, as though concerned that they were having a particularly dimwitted morning, and served herself yet another bowl of porridge before explaining. "Actually their parents want you to take them and they're willing to pay you a generous stipend."

"Maybe you should try starting from the beginning," Tobe muttered. "I think they're rather confused by the prospects of wealth and responsibility."

"Very well. Lord and Lady Lanton wish to see their daughters kept together and placed in a "respectable situation". By respectable, I believe they meant "not with unmarried knights, unhappily married knights, or young knights who live far from their wives" and I assumed "together" meant—well—anyway, after I informed them that their criteria eliminated virtually every knight in the king's service, they were so delighted with the possibility of two married knights taking both their daughters that I had no trouble convincing them they should pay for equipment for all four of you for the next four years. " Kel shrugged and took a large spoonful of porridge.

"How?" Dalton asked.

Kel swallowed. "Old people and pregnant women are traditionally allowed to say whatever they please." She sprinkled a bit more cinnamon into her bowl. "Lord and Lady Lanton want to meet you this spring, but I'm sure they'll be favorably impressed. They live near Gregory and Marcel—they don't want that sort of knight escorting their daughters and they're willing to pay handsomely to keep it from happening."

"But you wouldn't—not after Marcel attacked me." Penelope nearly slammed her knife down on the plate as she spoke.

"Of course I wouldn't," Kel muttered between bites. "But you can't afford to take squires without some sort of income."

Dalton opened his mouth to make what Kel suspected would be some sort of noble protest, but Penelope shoved the last of her bread and jam into it and said, "we do need new saddles."

"Good," said Kel, before Dalton could swallow, "I think the twins are going to do well with you." She ladled another helping of porridge into her bowl. "Any questions?"

"Is that your fifth bowl of porridge?" Dalton asked with an awestruck expression, while Penelope muttered, "How do you tell them apart?"

Kel shook her head and glared benevolently back at them. "Fourth. Larissa has a scar over her left eyebrow—or was it Levina?"

Penelope nodded rather dazedly and then stared down at her own bowl for a few moments as though lost in thought. "Did Neal now anything about this plan?" she asked, finally.

Kel blinked. "I might have mentioned it to him last night. Why?"

Penelope glanced at Dalton and muttered something about teaching grown men to find better things to do with their time. As one, they rose from the table and made their way to the door without answering Kel's inquiries about their plans.

"I imagine they're headed for a long and possibly violent discussion with Queenscove," Tobe informed her as he lifted Kefira onto his back and they left to find Daine and Sarra.

Dom set down the papers he was sorting. "I'm going to watch."

"Wait," Kel called. "I have to tell you—"

Dom shook his head and crossed the room quickly, stilling her lips gently with his fingers. "I already know." He kissed the top of her head. "We're having twins." He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms.

"I told Neal not to tell you," Kel muttered.

"He didn't." Dom grinned. "Well, he did say something along the line of "what-comes-around-goes-around" when you mentioned assigning Larissa and Levina to Penelope and Dalton last night.."

"That it does," Kel muttered.

"Mostly, I guessed because you seemed so desperate to prove that Penelope and Dalton—who are excellent assistant trainers, but spectacularly inept with children under twelve—"

"They've just had bad luck," Kel protested, though Dom ignored her.

"—could manage twin squires and you were so determined to help them along with a little money." Dom pulled her closer and continued in a whisper. "And then, there was that exceptionally thick letter you wrote to Lady Alanna last week. And the fact that you appear to be eating for three."

Kel cast the breakfast remains a morose glance. "I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Sometimes subtle is best," Dom muttered, brushing a bit of hair from her face.

"Neal says he thinks they're fraternal—a boy and a girl."

Dom gave such a deep chuckle that Kel pulled her head away from his chest. "What?"

"Our children are already wreaking havoc on George's betting pool."

_Oops! I seem to have set things up for another sequel of sorts—Penelope and Dalton lured me in with the promise of a quick comedy—so hopefully, I'll be able to continue this plotline later in the summer. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	2. Consequences

_Sorry about the delay in updating—I'm busy getting ready to leave for Ireland. Thanks for all of your reviews—you make continuing the story even more fun. I'm picking up almost immediately after where Double Trouble. As always, Tortall and its denizens belong to Tamora Pierce. _

"Erm, yes, I can see how my words might have been misconstrued." Neal glanced from Penelope, who raised her sword a few inches, to Dalton, who merely raised his eyebrows. There was absolutely no way he could duck between them and make a run for the door.

"You stand accused, sir, of willful deceit." If he hadn't recognized the mocking tilt to Penelope's chin, Neal might have been truly terrified.

"You deserved it," Neal told her.

"Undoubtedly, she did deserve it," said Dalton, "I, however, did not."

Neal decided to concede this point in the hopes of winning Dalton's allegiance. "Very well. You might say the confusion was halfway deliberate."

Dalton narrowed his eyes and Penelope explained, "he never does anything deliberately until after his morning tea."

"An excellent life strategy," Neal insisted. "And one you would do well to adopt."

But Dalton was not to be distracted. He used the tip of his sword to lift Neal's empty teacup by its handle and deposited it upon the cot closest to Neal's desk. "And the ulterior motive behind your half-way deliberate deceit?"

Neal sighed. "I thought I might try inciting a little chaos in the hopes of getting Kel to tell Dom something."

"What could Kel possibly…" Penelope trailed off, blinking slowly. "Oh."

"Twins?" Dalton muttered.

Neal nodded.

"Dom already knows," Dalton told him.

Penelope twitched her lips thoughtfully before nodding and finally lowering her sword just as Dom appeared in the doorway.

" Only I'm not certain how they know I know and I'm not entirely sure that I care to know."

Neal grinned sheepishly. "Well then, things have turned out nicely in the end."

"Have they?" Penelope asked, sheathing her sword and casting a menacing glance at Neal. "I wasn't aware that we had finished anything."

"Indeed," Dalton murmured cheerfully. "I would say things are just beginning." He offered his arm to Penelope and they departed without a backward glance.

Neal shook his head as he watched them go.

"I'm still not entirely sure what you did, but I'm sure you will justly deserve whatever retaliation they arrange," Dom informed him.

"But there are two of them."

"This is why it's a bad idea to interfere in married people's lives. In this case it was a particularly bad idea since George has trained Dalton and you've taught Penelope everything she knows about being devious."

"Only about 75 percent," Neal protested. "The girl has natural talent." Neal sighed. "And an impeccable sense of timing. She'll wait years if she has to and lull me into complacency before she blindsides me completely."

"That only frustrates you because you can't wait to pay her back for getting you back." Dom lifted Neal's teacup from the cot and spun the handle around his finger.

"True," Neal muttered. "Though technically this morning was my payback for her blackmail which I suppose might have been a response to the time I…"

Dom shook his head and waved at Neal as he turned to follow Penelope and Dalton.

MMMMM

Selena reacted to Kel's news with her usual cheerful composure when Kel told her after morning practice. She blinked twice and then muttered, "just don't start both their names with L—or any other letter."

"If I might offer my own opinion, lady knight," Penelope added as she emerged from the storage shed, "I would advise against rhyming names."

Kel nodded. "I'll avoid names that might give them any dangerous ideas."

"Wise," Dalton agreed. "I think their general environment is going to be inspiring enough."

Kel nodded once more, announced that she was hungry enough to eat a small pony, and departed. Selena turned to follow but Dalton grabbed her elbow.

"Might we have a word, lady squire?"

Selena blinked. Penelope opened her mouth, shut it in sudden understanding, and kissed Dalton's cheek.

"About Wyldon," Penelope clarified. "Is he well?"

MMMM

Neal managed only a few hours of herbal inventory before his next disturbance. He was just resealing a jar of bruise balm when a tremendously loud sneeze startled him into dropping it.

"I hear dere havig twids," Lord Wyldon observed through his handkerchief.

"Indeed." Neal wasn't sure which couple Wyldon was referring to and thought a neutral reply might be safest. "You appear to have a nasty head cold."

"Iddeed," Wyldon replied. Neal hadn't thought it was possible to snarl and moan at the same time.

Neal lifted his fingers to Wyldon's cheekbones and found that his sinuses were swollen with that undelightful substance, whose technical term—or so Lady Alanna had taught him—was goop. "Selena had this same cold last week," he informed Wyldon, "only she had the sense to come in before it festered into a miserable infection."

"I don't like to inconvenience healers with my own trivial discomfort."

"So you wait until you're truly miserable and hand me a tedious clean-up job."

Wyldon shrugged. "Suffering builds character."

Neal resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "In my humble opinion, sir, if you build your character up any higher, it will be in danger of collapsing under its own weight."

"Your opinions, Queenscove, are never humble and there's no excuse for your pretending otherwise." Wyldon's recently-cleared nostrils flared as he glared at Neal. "And furthermore, it was not my character I was referring to, but yours."

"You needn't trouble yourself, sir. Lady Knights Keladry and Penelope have the matter well in hand."

"I imagine they do." Wyldon nodded. "And I rather suspect Lady Alanna has made considerable contributions on that front. I ought to thank her, really."

"You _are_ still running a fever, my lord." Neal pressed a mug of tea into his hands.

"Am I?" Wyldon muttered. "Perhaps that accounts for a few of the strange rumors I thought I've heard today. I could have sworn Selena told me that Keladry was expecting twins."

"She is," Neal muttered.

Wyldon nodded mildly. "Well, she's always insisted on working twice as hard as the rest of us." He took a sip of his tea, managing to do so—to Neal's great astonishment—without pulling a face at its bitter taste. "Passable," he muttered and continued sipping wordlessly.

This left Neal shuffling awkwardly around the infirmary looking for busywork he could use to shield himself from Wyldon's gaze. He was on the verge of praying for immediate evaporation when Wyldon grunted and set down his mug.

"I must have caught it from Selena," Wyldon muttered. "She'll have picked it up from one of the pages."

"Squires are hazardous," Neal agreed. "they bring you all sorts of trouble."

"And disrupt your comfortable long-established view of the world," Wyldon added.

"And pull terrifying stunts."

"And worry their way into your heart—tenacious creatures—and."

"And then they grow up and get married and prove themselves formidably mischievous. And you realize you can't ever be finished worrying about them."

Wyldon blinked at Neal. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I was only going to say that I'll miss her next year." Then he shook his head vigorously. "Dear Mithros, I must be ill if I'm waxing philosophical."

Neal merely nodded and pressed another cup of tea into his hands.

MMMMM

"That was your idea," Penelope informed Dalton as they ate a quiet dinner in their own room, "so I still have to devise my own comeuppance for him."

"But—"

"I ought to be maintaining my own separate identity—what would my aunt say—"

"You were the one who talked Selena into it," Dalton protested.

"Well, we should be supporting one another in our endeavors, and it didn't take much talking."

"True," Dalton muttered. "Perhaps we ought to count this afternoon as Selena's contribution on Mindelan's."

Penelope nodded. "One must give credit where credit is due."

MMMM

The next morning, Kel found that a scrape of parchment had been slid under her door. She smiled when she saw the writing—it was the same hand that had once accompanied gifts from her mysterious benefactor. And there were only two words: _good luck. _

_Thanks for reading and reviewing and good luck avoiding the nasty summer cold that inspired this chapter. I'll try to post the next chapter in early August. _


	3. Meet the Parents

_Hello everyone. I'm back from Ireland—missing the green and beautiful but glad to be reunited with my laptop—and I've dashed out an episode for you. It takes place a few months after the last two, in which Penelope and Dalton learned that they would take on twin girls as squires and Dom learned that Kel is pregnant with twins. As always, land and denizens belong to Tamora Pierce. _

"Dressed for battle?" Dalton called, somewhat impatiently.

"Very nearly," Penelope muttered, glancing down at the vast expanse of her yellow silk skirts and wincing at the thought of tripping on them. The fastening she was attempting to close behind her neck slid from her fingers and she cursed loudly.

Dalton sighed and set down his book before walking over to help his wife. It took him several minutes of puzzled frowning, tying, untying, and retying but he managed to close the back of the dress.

"I see now"—he paused to kiss her spine just above the last fastening—"why you don't complain about armor very often."

Her shoulders trembled slightly in a silent laugh.

"Can you breathe?" Dalton asked.

Penelope nodded. "Almost."

"Why aren't you, then?"

"Nerves." She forced herself to take a slow breath and turned around to find Dalton stretching his fingers for the fortieth time that afternoon.

"Me too."

"It's a good thing you've never had to meet my aunt," Penelope told him as they made their way to the door.

"That I could handle," Dalton muttered, "so long as she didn't ask me to protect her daughters' lives and reputations while training them for battle."

Penelope nodded grimly, shortening her stride to accommodate her skirts as they marched towards their supper with Lord and Lady Lanton, the parents of Larissa and Levina.

Kel, huge and serene, greeted them at the door to her suite, which was far tidier than it had been since Dom had taken up full time residence and completely devoid of cats and Kefira.

"Daine's coaxed all five of them away for the evening to give us the illusion of staid respectability," Kel explained. "And Dom's meeting with Raoul this evening."

"So as long as Mindelan remains seated and none of you voice opinions on anything other then weather, you should be able to pull off a convincing performance," Wyldon muttered as he and Selena followed them into Kel's apartment.

Kel glanced up and down the hallway and then back at Wyldon holding a finger to her lips. "They're coming," she mouthed. She ambled back to the table and sat so as to conceal her belly and its indisputable proof of her personal life outside her position as training master.

Lady Lanton was tall, thin, and tightlipped. Lord Lanton was broad shouldered, bearded, and pot-bellied. They both entered with short, stiff strides and stared about the room. Wyldon, looking surprisingly regal in his formal clothes, guided them to the table and began carving the roast while Kel made small talk about the palace grounds.

Penelope decided Wyldon's advice was utterly irrelevant—her mouth would have been too dry for speech even if she had been able to think of anything to say. Not that she was called upon to contribute to the conversation. Lord Lanton hadn't acknowledged her presence with more than a stiff nod. He was too busy listening to detailed descriptions of the coloring, temperament, and health of each and every one of Wyldon's hounds and terriers. Certainly, Penelope couldn't give a complete inventory of every flower in the Queen's Garden as Kel appeared to be doing for Lady Landton. Nor could she imagine such parents allowing their daughters even to contemplate knighthood.

Apparently, Lord Lanton—after his fourth goblet of wine—felt a need to explain this apparent aberration as well, for he turned to Wyldon—ignoring Kel—as said, "I do assure you, sir, that my daughters would not be here if I had any sons or nephews."

"Indeed?" Wyldon murmured, lifting his eyebrows and shooting Selena the briefest of ironic glances.

"I have eight daughters, you know, plenty to spare, but not even a single son to carry on the family line. Lady Lanton hadn't had the strength for it, you see."

Now, of course, Penelope could think of a number of things she wanted to say. The first of them being that, according to Numair's research, men were responsible for the sex of their offspring. She had to clench her teeth together to keep from blurting it out and then she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when she glanced at Dalton and guessed that he was thinking the exact same thing. She glanced away quickly to preserve her straight face and accidentally caught Lady Lanton's eye.

Lady Lanton winked and Penelope felt her lips twitch slightly in response.

"…wouldn't dream of sending them otherwise," Lord Lanton rambled on, "but I decided the twins aren't pretty enough to marry well and supplying squires isn't quite as costly as their dowry might be. So I deemed it most expedient to let them attempt their farfetched notions…"

Penelope had to clench her jaws again to hold in the growl that seemed to be building in her through. She glanced at Kel and found the training master shredding her chicken with fork and knife. Selena was glaring at Lord Lanton's wine glass as though hoping to knock it over with her eyes.

"…Though I wouldn't blame you at all, sir, if they were to abandon the silly business or wind up crushed by the Chamber…"

Only the two feet that landed, one after another, on her own kept her from jumping to her feet. And it wasn't so much the feet themselves that kept her anchored as the puzzle of who they might belong to since they were definitely different sizes. One belonged to Dalton—or so she guessed, because he gazed across the table at her with warm, blazing eyes and mouthed "rotten bastard"—but the other…

"…I trust these young people of yours will do their best to keep the girls from any indiscrete behavior…"

Penelope thought Kel was too far away to be responsible—a suspicion which was confirmed when Kel hiccupped and twitched as though one of the babies had kicked but the feet pinning hers remained motionless. Penelope risked a sideways glance at Lord Wyldon. His eyes flicked briefly towards her amidst his polite nodding and the second foot disappeared.

"…wouldn't want to have them shaming their home and family with anything scandalous, would we?"

Penelope wriggled her toes in relief and wound her free ankle round the chair leg to keep herself from rising.

"As a father of many daughters," Wyldon said smoothly, "I can assure you that I would trust these knights"—he gestured at Penelope, who tilted her chin defiantly at Lord Lanton, and Dalton, who smiled grimly —"to protect my children with their lives."

Lord Lanton looked ready to launch into another tirade, but Lady Lanton laid her fingers over his wrist and murmured, "that is high praise, indeed, coming from one such as yourself." She smiled around the table before turning back to her husband. "But perhaps, you'd like a few minutes consultation with Training Master Keladry and Sir Dalton. I know I wish for a private word with Lady Knight Penelope."

Penelope just had time to blink in surprise before she found herself abandoning her chair and being towed along by Lady Lanton, whose grip was strong enough to make Penelope reconsider the merits of embroidery. Wyldon and Selena nodded farewells and made their way to the door. Then Penelope was cornered, perched beside Lady Lanton on the sofa furthest from the table.

"I generally let him think he's made this sort of decision on its own," Lady Lanton murmured, " occasionally I have to walk him through distasteful logic, but on the whole it's easier and more effective than arguing."

"This was all your decision?"

"It was my daughters' decision," Lady Lanton assured her. "I merely voiced it so he would listen. It's lucky I started early though, it took a few years of persuasion—you know how husbands can be?"

"I don't actually," Penelope muttered. "I married for love, you see." And then she flinched, wondering if Lady Lanton would take offense.

Lady Lanton only paused thoughtfully and glanced once at Dalton. "That was brave of you."

"Actually, it was one of the easiest things I've ever done."

"Coming from you, I don't suspect that means much." Lady Lanton's lips curved into a tiny smile. " You married for love only to take on strangers' children for money. That seems a bit backwards."

Penelope sighed. "The money is—well, it's essential. But we're doing this for Mindelan. And I'm doing it for myself."

"For yourself?"

"There weren't many—but a few people looked out for me and now I owe the same to your daughters," Penelope muttered, shrugging. She couldn't explain it any better.

Lady Lanton nodded slowly. "You seem honest anyway." Then she glanced across the room at her husband. "I'd better remove him before he has a change of heart." She caught Penelope's hands in her own. "I trust you—take care of them." And then she kissed Penelope's cheek as though they had known each other for years and whisked Lord Lanton out of the room as soon as he'd shaken Dalton's hand.

Penelope sat watching her go, ignoring the stray tears falling across her cheeks until Dalton came to brush them away.

"It's over," he whispered. And Penelope's mouth was too dry again to tell him that it had just begun.

She reached down instead, and deliberately ripped her skirt so that she could run freely. They sprinted together to their quarters where Dalton helped her finish its demolition, kissed her fiercely, and shoved a set of practice clothes into her hands. By the time she'd finished changing, he'd gathered both of their swords and bows.

MMMMMMM

The practice courts were lit by lantern light when Neal passed them after dark and he found them remarkably crowded. Wyldon and Selena stood firing arrow after arrow at distant targets. Dom and Kel stood nearby doing the same while debating Kel's fitness for archery in fierce whispers. Penelope and Dalton were in the far court, swords dancing so fast they were barely visible.

"It went that well, did it?"

"They've received Lord Lanton's grudging approval," Dom muttered. "Tell Kel that she ought to sit and rest."

Kel glared at Neal.

"Well, er a little light archery is probably better for the babies than hours of angry stewing." He took a few precautionary steps backwards as he spoke, moved to watch Penelope and Dalton. And discovered that they were actually carrying on a conversation as they worked.

"I don't know how she keeps from shouting at him," Dalton said, sweeping his sword overhead.

"Who? Lady Lanton?" Penelope sidestepped to keep him from twisting her blade out of her grip.

Dalton nodded.

"She whispers instead," Penelope muttered. She paused, darting forward with an underhand swing. "Probably all she has breath for in that dress. Left hands?"

"Sure." They both tossed they blades into their left hands and continued as before. "Thanks by the way," Dalton muttered, "for holding my foot down."

Penelope's sword clattered across the court. "I thought that you were…" She blinked unsteadily at him as he picked up her weapon.

Dalton shrugged innocently and returned her sword. Penelope swung around automatically pointed her sword at Neal before remembering that he hadn't there.

"Have either of you noticed," he asked mildly, "how long-legged and quiet Selena seems this evening?"

Wyldon turned sharply. "Don't be absurd Queenscove. Nobody catches my squire at anything devious."

_Hope you enjoyed. No promises on when the next episode will be up since I am in the middle of more writing projects than I can count (especially as I am not a numbers person) but I hope to have it up by the end of the month. Admittedly, I will be taking a day to swallow Eclipse whole when it comes out. Happy August reading and writing to all. _


	4. Questions

_Back already—I couldn't stay away. The episode takes place one week after the last and its location and characters (well, most anyway) belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

"So, I think you should take off with Larissa and Levina for the North," Kel said, as she watched the last of the pages depart, "as soon as they've said farewell to their parents and moved their things to the squires' quarter."

"Tomorrow?" Dalton swallowed hard. He'd been expecting to spend the summer—their entire first year with the twins, actually—helping Kel with training.

Kel shrugged. "Or the day after at the latest."

"But that's—"Penelope began.

"The best way to keep Lord Lanton from changing his mind," Kel finished quickly, frowning slightly. "And the only chance to give the girls some road experience—because I'll need you here helping this fall once I've—well, I'll have my hands full with my own twins and…"

"Of course," Penelope said quickly, hastily cramming a pile of staffs into the corner of a shed.

Dalton nodded. "We'll meet them after breakfast then to gather gear." He locked up the shed for Kel and realized that Penelope had already departed. "Good night."

MMMM

"I don't think we can do this," Penelope muttered as she stuffed a shirt into her saddle pack. Their horses, tent, bedrolls, and weapons were gathered; they had only personal possession left to gather but she still felt completely unprepared. "I can't do this."

It was exactly what Dalton was thinking and he hated hearing it. "It's a little too late for that—we don't have a choice anymore."

"It was never a good idea." Penelope stepped away from the bed and her bag rolled off it onto the floor. "What were you thinking? We weren't—aren't ready."

"Kel thinks we are," he said glumly, walking around the bed to pick up her pack and toss it back on the bed. "So we have to be. We must be." He grabbed her shoulder. "We'll—"

"Not for this." She shrugged away from his grip, blinking rapidly as her fingers curled into fists. "She changed the plan. And we aren't ready. Not at all." It was one thing to protect herself—or to worry about Dalton—but to be responsible for two young girls, girls who were in danger because they looked up to her…Never mind teaching them—guiding them the way Neal had helped her.

He lifted her chin with a finger—something he hadn't done in years because it had been a long time since she'd ducked her head—and the uncertainty in his eyes dizzied her. "You'll just have to make—"

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped, whirling around and hurrying from the room so he didn't see her tears. She dashed through the corridor and hurried outside, barely aware that it was already dark as she stormed aimlessly through the gardens.

MMMM

It was well before dawn when Wyldon found Penelope waiting for him, sitting cross-legged in his preferred corner of the practice courts.

"Everybody knows you come earliest," she said quietly and he spun around and blinked at her. "But this is early even for you."

"And for you Proudcreek—it's practically still night—does Dalton know you're here?"

Penelope shrugged and got to her feet. "He knows I'm not having an affair—'

"Certainly not with me," Wyldon grumbled in a tone that made Penelope wonder if he didn't have a (deeply buried) sense of humor.

"But I wasn't going to wake him this early just to keep him apprised of my whereabouts," Penelope continued.

Wyldon raised his eyebrows, nostrils flaring very slightly. "You haven't slept at all." It wasn't a question. He lifted his arms overhead and began stretching stiffly. "You two argued."

"Briefly." Penelope blinked back at him through thick and gritty eyelids. "That's not why I'm here." She scrambled to her feet and joined him in stretching. "I need to know what you said last week—about my—our protecting the girls with our lives—or if you were just lying for the Lantons."

"I don't lie. But Lady Lanton was wrong—that's not the highest praise I could give. Any idiot can die protecting someone, after which that someone will probably be killed anyway. It would take something more to get all four of you out of a tight spot alive. I think you could manage it, but I don't vouch for that kind of ability until I've seen it."

"Oh," Penelope muttered. "Thank you."

"Of course," Wyldon murmured as he drew his sword and began running effortless through a complex drill, "I would have to change my assessment if you and Dalton were to cease"—he completed the drill at glanced over his shoulder at her—"communicating."

"I see, sir."

"Not," he added, "that I would want to hear anything about your reasons for doing so."

Penelope nodded and reached for her own sword.

"Not this morning, Proudcreek. It would be a most uneven match—you're far too distracted."

MMMM

"I don't want to talk about it," Penelope muttered into her tea—which Neal had fixed the way they both liked it, with generous dashes of milk and sugar.

"Well, I've never been all that good at companionable silence," Neal replied. "I can do either early morning glowering or casual conversation but not friendly sitting together." He took a bite his toast, which was more than a little scorched. "And you didn't come for the breakfast."

"I couldn't find Dalton," Penelope said, aware that this wasn't precisely a reasonable explanation for her early appearance. "I haven't seen him since..."

"I see, so you were just checking the infirmary and you thought you would invite yourself in." Neal poured himself third cup. "I understand he spent the night at Alanna's."

She cringed. "That must have been awkward."

"Particularly since George incapacitates first and asks questions later at that hour."

Penelope took a sip of tea and found that it was still warm, but just barely. "I left the door unlocked for him when I came back to grab my sword." She drank quickly.

"Maybe he needed some space too—I might have."

"You're not supposed to be so reasonable at this time of day," Penelope muttered.

"Cheers." Neal lifted his mug and downed the last of its contents.

"You're worse than Wyldon." Penelope sniffed at her toast.

"At jousting or sympathetic listening?"

She set her burnt toast down, glaring balefully.

"I could make some partially reassuring remarks," Neal said, reaching over and capturing her hand with his to stop her from pulverizing her toast, "but I'm not sure that you want to hear them."

Penelope raised her eyebrows and reached for a strawberry with her free hand.

"There's no such thing as ready—you ought to know that by now, you've been through the Chamber—there's only more or less prepared and more or less capable of improvising." Neal grinned. "And we both know that you're relatively well-prepared to train a squire and quite capable of improvising—or at least you would know that if you weren't terrified."

Penelope blushed slightly and looked away.

"I'm afraid I won't be good at this—if I can even manage to keep them alive."

"And you're even more afraid that you'll be good at it—"

Penelope blinked.

--"because that would mean rethinking what you want to do with yourself."

She opened her mouth.

Neal squeezed her hand. "Don't bother answering that. Just remember that just because someone else depends on you doesn't mean that you can't come find me. Even at unbearably early hours."

"Thanks," Penelope whispered. Then she smiled crookedly. "I believe Wyldon would call this late morning.

Neal ignored that and refilled her tea. "Drink up. You'll need it if you're meeting Kel and the twins in an hour." He set the teapot down and tugged gently at her disheveled braid. "And you go find him as soon as you've finished. That's an order."

MMMM

"I doubt she's truly mad," Alanna muttered as she selected a plum from the bowl on her breakfast table. "She probably learned the hard way that anger looks stronger than fear."

Dalton nodded—he'd learned that this was the safest response to this sort of pronouncement—and stood to leave.

"Good luck," Alanna told him.

"What happened to 'work hard and think'?"

"That will only get you so far with twins—they have a knack for irritating and unsettling even the steadiest individuals."

Dalton forced his grimace into a smile. "You would know."

MMMM

Despite her frantic search of bedroom, stables, library, and mess hall, Penelope only spotted Dalton when she arrived—late—at Larissa and Levina's quarters in the pages' wing. She saw Lord and Lady Lanton strolling down the hallway with Kel and swallowed to keep her nerves from jumping out of her stomach.

Dalton turned and scanned her face anxiously.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She was too nervous to smile but she took his hand, interlacing their fingers. "I spooked and over—"

"I know," he murmured. "Me too. Quiet." Lord and Lady Lanton were within earshot, but he turned and brushed his lips over her forehead anyway. It was a poor compromise since what he really wanted was to hold her close for at least an hour, possibly a week, but encountering someone who actually care about his wife would undoubtedly disrupt Lord Lanton's comfortable understanding of reality.

Penelope tilted her head sideways and kissed his jaw quickly. "I think we can do this," she whispered. "I promise to try."

Kel cleared her throat then and they jumped apart in time to find Lord Lanton awkwardly averting his eyes, Lady Lanton gazing at them with calm, sad eyes, and Larissa and Levina watching with rapt curiosity.

MMMM

"That's the last of your gear," Dalton announced once the four of them were alone in the twins' new adjoining rooms. "You can have the afternoon to finish packing and we'll leave tomorrow at first light. Any questions?"

"Yes." He wasn't sure which one spoke first. He couldn't tell them apart yet.

"A few," the other continued, glancing from Penelope to Dalton. "Did you—"

"Just a moment," Penelope interrupted. "No, we didn't quite volunteer for this. Yes, we did take out a pair of hurroks as fourth year pages. No, contrary to the Lioness's complaints, Dalton doesn't snore like an ox. Yes, I did kill Sir Kendal—no, I don't really regret it. And, no, I never slept with my knightmaster—so, obviously it's not a course of action I would recommend." She smiled at the blinking twins. "Any further questions?"

"I that covers it for now anyway, though—"

"we'll probably think of more on the road tomorrow."

"Do you always finish each other's sentences?" Dalton asked.

"Only—"

"Sometimes." The twins grined at each other.

"I usually go by Rissa, and—"

"You can call me Vina."

Penelope and Dalton could only nod dazedly, reminding themselves that they'd never had a problem with these girls on the pages' training grounds.

_So, I hope you enjoyed it. I know we didn't see much of Kel, but Wyldon and Alanna both demanded screen time and I've learned not to argue with them. I hope to have the next episode up by the end of August. _


	5. Beginning Again

_Thanks so much to all my lovely reviewers—you definitely inspired me to crank this next chapter out. This episode begins the morning after the previous one. As always, setting and (recognizable) characters belong to Tamora Pierce. _

Penelope glared out the window at the lightening sky and then shut her eyes, rolling over and burrowing under Dalton's arm.

"Morning," he whispered.

"I missed you the other night," she muttered.

"I know." He kissed her cheekbone. "The room was too empty. I wouldn't have gone to Alanna's if I'd known you'd coming back. Her sofa's rather lumpy."

She laughed. "But probably more comfortable than Wyldon's corner of the practice court. I'm never doing that again."

"No, I imagine you won't—it's rather difficult to storm out of a tent." Dalton pulled her closer. "Particularly when you're sharing with your squire—squires, I still can't believe there are two of them."

"There are two of us."

Dalton rolled his eyes. "The point is that both of them together outweigh me."

"They each outweigh me on their own," Penelope muttered darkly.

"You're used to winning fights against bigger people. Everyone except the Lioness outweighs you." Dalton pulled her onto his chest to illustrate the point. "That's probably why you like to train with her."

"Of course." She settled her cheek over his heart. "It has nothing to do with the fact that she's the King's Cham—"

Someone knocked sharply at their door and Penelope scrambled out of bed, grabbing a dressing gown. "It must be Mindelan or one of the girls."

It was, however, Sir Gordon— he was five or six years older, so Penelope recognized him only from brief sightings in the palace—and he stared awkwardly at her for several seconds before speaking.

"I—uh—beg pardon—er—is Sir Dalton here?"

Penelope glanced down and noted with some amusement that—between her dressing gown and an old shirt of Dalton's—her figure was thoroughly concealed. Perhaps he found her bare feet distressing.

"What do you need?" she asked as Dalton appeared behind her in the doorway.

"I've orders from Wyldon and the King," Sir Gordon said, addressing Dalton directly.

"Ah," said Dalton, "I don't believe you've been introduced to my wife, Lady Knight Penelope." He wrapped an arm pointedly about Penelope's waist. "What are _our_ orders?"

Gordon blushed scarlet again. "Er--I'd—uh—forgotten you were married." He shook Penelope's offered hand as briefly as possible. Then he cleared his throat. "Wyldon said you were leaving with your squires anyway today—you are to join the group heading south. There's been a rash of Immortal attacks. We're departing within the hour." Gordon nodded stiffly and trotted down the corridor.

Dalton swung the door shut and they hurried to dress. "I always suspected he was exaggerating about his exploits with serving women in the men's baths," he muttered.

"That's generous," Penelope told Dalton. "I'd say he was making them up entirely."

MMMM

Kel waved to them from the corner of the yard where the knights were gathering. Penelope wandered over to say goodbye while Dalton helped the twins finish arranging their gear.

"You didn't have to get up so early to see us off," she told her.

Kel chuckled and set a hand on her belly. "I didn't have much choice in the matter. My twins have already settled into a lifelong habit of early morning exercise."

"Perhaps you should name one of them after Lord Wyldon," Penelope muttered.

"I'm tempted," Kel confessed, "I'm not sure what he would make of that though." She shook her head. "You'll be all right today?" she asked.

Penelope nodded slowly. "I think so. We got on well enough yesterday. And we know the girls a little from helping with the pages' training."

"They respect and admire you, you know."

Penelope scowled. "They respect me; they admire Dalton. It isn't quite the same thing." Virtually all of the female pages—and a number of young noblewomen and Riders—had watched Dalton with adoration all spring. "Fortunately, he's completely oblivious."

"It's partly your fault, you know," Kel muttered.

Penelope rolled her eyes.

"No, I mean they're attracted to him because he's capable of loving someone who is capable of fighting her way through scrapes without him." Kel nudged Penelope's elbow. "That's not a universal male trait, but it's a necessary prerequisite for romance with a lady knight."

Penelope sighed, but did not roll her eyes. "I suppose."

"So," Kel urged. "Remember that even when they're looking at him, they're always watching you."

Penelope opened her mouth—probably to make a smart remark denying this—but the knight leading the expedition whistled and shouted orders for them to mount before she could speak.

"Good luck," Kel whispered. She watched Penelope dash back to her horse and waved to all four of them as they rode past her. She followed them with her eyes until the entire troop was out of sight.

MMMM

"They'll be fine," Dom told Kel for roughly the twelfth time. He kissed her and nudged her out the door for the pages morning practice. "They'll all be fine."

"I know," Kel muttered. "I just don't _know _know."

"Great goddess, Mindelan," Wyldon, who had been waiting outside for her, said. "You're doubling your verbs. That's most uncharacteristic. Are you sure you aren't going into…" he trailed off, glancing plaintively at Dom while Selena smirked.

"Aren't women my condition are allowed to engage in uncharacteristic behavior?" Kel asked.

"I don't dictate the rules—"

"No, he only enforces the ones he agrees with," Selena put in.

Wyldon glared at his squire and began again. "I don't dictate the rules, Mindelan. You'll have to put your behavioral inquiries to Queenscove. After morning practice, that is. We'd best be going now." He nodded at Dom and waved at Kefira.

Kel shrugged and fell into step beside him, scowling when she realized that he was shortening his strides to accommodate her slower pace.

"I'm reasonably confident," he told her as they reached the practice courts, "in their ability to return alive. They're certainly too stubborn—all four of them—to do anything less." Wyldon sighed. "Dalton's solid—he always keep his head, knows what he's about. And Penelope's...impressive; she won't let anything hold her back. And those girls are—"

"Unique," Kel finished for him, before he could come up with a more disconcerting description.

"Unique," Wyldon agreed. "Even if there are two of them."

MMMM

Kel did get a chance to put her "behavioral inquiries"—as Wyldon so charmingly called them—to Neal later that afternoon when Roland fell off his horse and broke his nose.

"I wouldn't say your behavior's at all uncharacteristic Kel," Neal answered, as he washed his hands. "You're about to have twins, but you're more worried about four former students, all of whom are going to come back in one piece—or four separate and complete pieces, anyway. You ought to be worrying about yourself."

He frowned and ran his fingers over Roland's nose. "By the way, how did this—"

"I fell," Roland muttered, just as Kel said, "he fell."

"Conspiring with your fighting students, however, is relatively—"

"Off a horse," Kel clarified.

"Still characteristic," Neal muttered, "whether or not you're lying."

_Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the shorter episode, but I thought it better to end here to prevent cliffies. I hope to get another chapter up before I start classes, so probably early September._


	6. Interference

_Here we are again—and in early September, as promised. Thanks for all your great reviews, by the way; they've been overwhelming—in a good way. I hurried to finish writing this in a barren dorm, before I'd even put sheets on my bed—guess that says something about where my priorities lie. _

_Anyway, the setting, back story, and (certain) characters of this episode belong to Tamora Pierce. It begins a day or so after the last one. _

"Can I ask a question?"

Penelope blinked at Rissa—she was nearly certain Rissa was the one with a faint scar on her left eyebrow—and glanced around their campsite at the other clusters of training knights and squires, wondering when Dalton would finish consulting with Sir Gordon. The two squires—with their identical long noses, sparkling brown eyes, and vicious righthand sweeps—were beginning to wear at her (admittedly thin) patience.

"Can I ask a question?" Rissa repeated.

Penelope sighed. "Well, you've certainly demonstrated an ability to verbalize them." Clearly, she'd spent too much time in Neal's company.

"May I ask a question?"

"Well, I can't stop you now that you've done it." Penelope found herself instinctively mimicking Wyldon's tone and enjoying herself far more than ought to be considered healthy.

"Will you answer it?"

Penelope glanced down at the practice sword she'd been using to duel the two girls and let out a soft growl of exasperation. Apparently, Rissa took this as an affirmative.

"Is kissing better than sparring?' she asked.

Penelope closed her eyes, offering silent and profuse apologies to Neal for whatever torment she'd put him through to deserve this. When she opened them she saw Dalton waiting with raised eyebrows for her answer.

"They're both good—though it all depends on who your partner is," Penelope said finally.

Dalton winked at her. They both had to bite their lips to keep from laughing aloud as Vina shot her sister a superior glare.

"I told you she wouldn't give us a yes-or-no answer."

MMMM

"Six weeks," Kel muttered as she walked—or rather, waddled—with Selena to retrieve Kefira from Neal.

"Aren't Penelope and Dalton supposed to be back in five weeks?" Selena swept the door open for Kel.

"Six weeks and it will just be me in here," Kel clarified.

"What if they're late?" Selena asked.

"Not mine—they're going to begin their lives punctually," Kel insisted.

"Be careful what you wish for," Neal called from his desk, "I understand they're easier to supervise in their current condition." He stood up. "Speaking of which—I'm not entirely sure where Kefira has—"

Kefira and Nessa burst into the room before he could finish, both breathless and speckled with what appeared to be purple ink.

Kel reached out to ruffle her daughter's hair. "What have you been up to?"

"Practicing," Kefira announced smugly.

"I've been instructing her in the grooming of younger siblings," Neal's daughter explained primly.

"I'm sure you two did a very thorough job," Selena remarked through her fingers as she surveyed them.

"Neal?" Yuki's tone made him flinch even before she stormed into the room. "Can you explain why our son has purple hair?"

Neal swallowed and fluttered his fingers as though trying to snatch an answer from the air.

Yuki glared back unsympathetically. "Penelope would have had an answer by now," she informed him.

"At least the girls picked a regal and distinguished shade," Neal muttered, poking at his son's hair.

Yuki rolled her eyes at Kel. "Never let him lecture you on child supervision."

"Honestly," Neal began, rubbing his temple. "I—"

Yuki blinked despairingly and Neal stopped talking and dropped his hands. Kel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at the large purple spot beside his eye.

"And don't listen to anything I say about the proper supervision of husbands," Yuki added quietly.

MMMM

"Where's your sister?" Dalton asked. He was fairly certain it was Vina who had plopped down beside their campfire, but, even after a month of traveling with them, he wasn't entirely sure. And he didn't like to ask "Where's Rissa?" because both twins had a habit of answering "right here" and laughing when misidentified.

Vina shrugged. "She stopped to talk with what's-his-face. Will supper be ready soon?" All across camp, small clusters of knights were cooking at their own fires.

Dalton answered by passing her the spoon and glancing in the tent to be sure he hadn't missed Rissa's return. He hadn't. Penelope sat alone, threading a needle and glaring so fiercely at her shirt that Dalton couldn't tell whether she was trying to mend it or set it on fire.

"You might have better light outside," he told her.

She shook her head. "Then I'd have to stare directly at my ugly stitches."

Dalton sighed fondly at the futility of forcing logic upon Penelope and wandered around the back of their tent, gazing idly into the woods. He heard a quiet shriek and muffled grunt and then Rissa's voice—all fury, fear, and bravado—as she emerged from the shadows. She was busy freeing her wrist from Marcel, Penelope's old enemy, so Dalton could barely make out her words.

"Just because I was flirting with him doesn't mean I want _your_ attention." She spun away and glared back at Marcel. "Don't try to kiss—"

"It was only a little fun," Marcel muttered, reaching for her hand. Then he caught sight of Dalton and bristled. "It's not like her father will mind if—"

"I don't care what her father thinks," Dalton said quietly. "She has the right to decide what to do with herself."

"Good, then surely you won't mind shar—"

"Let me clarify," Dalton hissed, striding forward. "If you ever touch her again, you and I will be dueling to the death within the hour."

Penelope slid so silently from the tent that only Dalton heard her. She startled Marcel by drawing her own sword.

"Though I'll probably have killed you within the half hour," Penelope murmured, spinning her blade easily. "We women have trouble controlling our emotions and keeping to gentlemen's agreements, you know."

Marcel scowled and lumbered away and Penelope back around the tent just as quietly as she had come, leaving Rissa and Dalton facing one another awkwardly.

Rissa wrapped her arms around her torso to stop them from shaking. "I was trying to avoid doing anything rude," she muttered. "Thanks."

Dalton nodded. "Don't bother being a lady unless they respect you." He realized his fingers were clenched and forced them to uncurl. "I suppose you know where to kick the next one."

She nodded. "I'd have gotten to that eventually."

"Good because you don't get to practice on me."

MMMM

"Rissa always manages to muck things up—whenever I haven't managed it first, that is." Vina whispered, half-whining, half-giggling. "Now none of the boys will even dare speak to us."

"No," Penelope corrected absently, still scowling at her mending, "only the really polite and really brave ones will."

"I suppose." Vina sighed. "Here, pass that to me." She tugged the shirt from Penelope's hands. "You're about to sew your hand to it. You can stir the stew instead." She began undoing Penelope's stitches. "Some of us actually find this relaxing, you know."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Some of us are crazy."

"Both of us are crazy." Vina shook her head. "All of us are crazy. I like sewing though—it keeps your hands busy and your head just full enough that you only have room for pleasant thoughts."

Penelope blinked. "I suppose there is something rather satisfying about imagining sticking a needle in Marcel's eye. "

MMMM

Their group made camp early the next afternoon. Rissa and Vina announced their intention of picking blueberries along the river and disappeared. Penelope was rather glad to see them go; it gave her a few moments alone with Dalton. They wandered around camp together, talking quietly.

"Was I out of line back there with Rissa?" Dalton asked as soon as they had bid the twins goodnight and stepped out of earshot.

Penelope frowned, thoughtfully but not disapprovingly. "I was always furious whenever Neal did anything like that—bust mostly at myself for having needed his intervention." She stepped sideways so that her shoulder was touching Dalton's. "And Rissa isn't me—she's grown up in a different house—her parents..."

He sighed and wrapped his arm around her. " I shouldn't have had to do it in the first place—not that I wouldn't do the same thing over again. But if they start to rely on—"

"Knowing that someone will stand behind you if need be makes it easier to stand up for yourself," Penelope said firmly. "It doesn't prevent you from learning how." Penelope shrugged. "I wouldn't have added my own opinion if I didn't think it would help Rissa to hear it."

"You seemed to derive a great deal of personal satisfaction from delivering it," Dalton remarked, raising his eyebrows.

"So will the twins," Penelope said, " when we're finished with them."

Dalton rather doubted that they would ever be entirely finished with the twins and was about to say so when a local farmer strode purposefully into camp, an irritated expression on his face.

"How can you just loll around your camp?" he demanded. "Our entire village is cowering in fear and you're just…"

"Perhaps," Sir Gordon interrupted, "you could explain just what has you so concerned and—"

"There's at least one tauros—probably a gang of four or five—sweeping around our farms. Can't send our girls down to do the wash in the river…"

Penelope wasn't sure whether the lurching sensation in her gut came before or after the shouts from the woods, but the combination made her curse loudly and sprint for the river.

When she got there, she had trouble believing the sight before her. Vina was covered in scratches and Rissa was holding her wrist awkwardly against her chest. A dead tauros lay on the ground before them, a knife jutting out of his neck.

"There were more," Vina muttered.

"But they left when they heard you shouting," Rissa continued.

"I wasn't shouting," Penelope said absently as she bent down to extract the knife.

Dalton coughed softly. "Not anything that certain squires should repeat anyway."

_Sorry about the mild cliffie. I hope you enjoyed the episode. I know we haven't seen much of Kel lately, but Penelope and Dalton will be rejoining her (and her soon-to-arrive mischief-makers) at the palace shortly. I'll post the next chapter as soon as my crazy (admittedly it's all my fault for double-majoring and adding a fifth class) schedule allows, probably mid-month. Until then, happy reading and writing! _


	7. Indignation

_Hello again and many thanks to all my amazing reviewers (100 is a beautiful number). Setting and some characters belong to Tamora Pierce. This episode begins approximately 15 seconds after the ending of the previous episode. Enjoy!_

"So," Dalton said, examining Rissa's wrist, "how did tackle this on your own?"

"I wasn't on my own," Rissa said.

"We were on our own," Vina clarified. "I shouted and ran and threw rocks to distract it and—"

"I darted up and shoved my knife in its neck." Rissa winced as Dalton poked at her forearm. "He twisted more than I was expecting as he fell."

Sir Gordon appeared then, having followed with the farmer at a more leisurely pace. He surveyed the dead Tauros carefully before sheathing his sword and blinking at the four of them.

"Remarkable," he muttered.

"Quite," said Dalton. "They managed to slay an Immortal without sustaining anything worse than a sprained wrist."

"No, I meant the family resemblance." Gordon shook his head. "However do you tell them apart?"

_It's very simple, _ Dalton thought, but refrained from saying, _Rissa's gazing at her knife like she wants to stick it in your neck and Vina's actually trying to kill you with her eyes. _

"It's lucky though." Vina's voice was pleasant but she kept glaring at Gordon. "I think it confused them."

"Them?" Sir Gordon raised his eyebrows—or rather he attempted to do so and made himself look rather foolish in the process.

"I told you there were four or five of them," grumbled the farmer who'd come to complain.

"I see." Sir Gordon straightened suddenly, turning towards Dalton. "Take these two to the village healer—someone should see to her wrist. And then meet in my tent to plan an attack." He spun around and marched away.

"I'll just dispose of the body, then," Penelope called after him, rolling her eyes at Dalton "since you haven't given me any orders to the contrary."

Dalton gripped her shoulder briefly. "Be careful." He kissed her cheek.

"I've gotten old and wise," she assured him. "I'm going to set the thing on fire and run back to our well-populated camp."

"She's a brave one," the farmer muttered as he began leading the way back to the village. "How long have you been married?"

Dalton blinked, impressed with the man's guess since Penelope wore no ring, and smiled. "Since midwinter."

The farmer nodded. "Good of her to take in your sisters so soon; most women would want to have their own children before they raised their husband's kin."

Dalton didn't bother correcting the man. "Most women don't expect their own orders when they come with their husbands on military campaigns."

The farmer smiled as he gestured to the healer's cottage. "True enough, lad, true enough."

MMMM

There were ten or so knights crammed into Sir Gordon's tent and it was so crowded that Penelope practically had to stand on Dalton's feet. Gordon was perched comfortably on a collapsible stool though, and he took his time establishing that they did, in fact, have "an obligation, indeed, a duty to slay the unspeakably brutal creatures terrorizing the countryside." Dalton's exasperated sigh tickled the back of Penelope's neck.

"And it ought to be done this very afternoon," Marcel added. It was the third time in his life—after two undeniably factual statements in their history class—that Penelope agreed with him.

"Quite right." Gordon nodded pompously. "The main difficulty will be in locating the four of them—preferably together so that we can ambush them all at once. The group attack on those squires this afternoon was a stroke of good luck." Penelope thought this was a rather odd way of putting it—though Rissa and Vina had been lucky to escape unharmed.

"Perhaps we could replicate it though, under more advantageous circumstances." Marcel took a half step forward. "If we use a few of the village girls to lure—"

Penelope turned, shaking with rage, but Dalton spoke first. "How dare you even suggest such a thing? It violates every principle—"

"Enough!" Gordon snapped. "It's an admittedly unpalatable suggestion." He sighed. "But the decision is not yours to make. I will—"

"It's mine actually." Penelope took a deliberate step forwards. Only Dalton, and perhaps Marcel, realized that she had passed beyond shouting and into a quieter, deadlier fury. "If you want bait—if you're that cowardly—you'll have to use me. You aren't bringing unarmed, untrained innocents into this."

"The girls I had in mind are hardly innocents," Marcel sneered. "But then again you aren't either."

" Do you want me to write a letter to your fiancé?" Penelope asked, letting the rest of the tent make of that what they would. Dalton snorted softly behind her.

Penelope turned back to Gordon. "I smell female—_they _aren't going to notice all my concealed knives. I'll wander along the riverbank—you'll follow at a distance—until I attract their attention and then we'll bring them all down."

"Now, we can't have you—you're a—" Gordon began.

"Lady knight," Penelope finished bluntly. "And uncomfortable as you are with the concept, you should like this strategy. You won't have to give me any direct orders or have me leading the attack. I'll just be standing there waiting—rather like we're all waiting for you to actually orchestrate an attack."

Gordon's jaw dropped slightly and he snapped it shut impatiently. "Well, since you've so recklessly volunteered, I suppose there is a certain logic to." He shook his head. "Perhaps you ought to go find some more suitably feminine attire."

"That wasn't an order. I'll be in my tent." Several men stepped out of her way, clearing her path to the tent flap as she marched away.

"Can't you control your wife, Dalton? Forbid her to make this kind of…" Gordon ran out of words, swallowed, and scowled.

"That would be insubordination, wouldn't it?" Dalton muttered. "Since you're her commanding officer." He didn't bother giving any kind of salute, but strode to the tent flap. "And if anything happens to her, when I kill you—that'll be mutiny."

MMMM

Dalton found Penelope securing knives to her forearms, beneath her sleeves. Or attempting to do so anyway, she was having trouble working the buckles one handed and she was still shaking with fury.

He pulled away the knife-hilts, dropped them to the ground, and wrapped both arms around her until she went completely still.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded.

"That's not the kind of thing you think about. It's just the kind of you do because it needs to be done and you're the only one who can do it." She sighed. "I'm glad the twins are safe in the village though." She stepped reluctantly from his arms, stooping to pick up the knife hilts. He took them from her and began buckling them himself.

"How can you do this?"

"I trust you to watch my back," she said simply.

"But there are four of them."

Penelope dropped her arms and the knife handles slid into her fingers. "That makes two each." She replaced the knives and pulled down her sleeves. "Even if the knights in shining armor don't find it convenient to assist us."

Dalton forced himself to smile and pulled her close for a long kiss.

"Ready?" A voice called. The stepped apart, nodded at each other, and strode from the tent.

Sir Liam, one of the older knights, was waiting for them outside their tent. "Sir Gordon wants everyone to take up positions now."

Penelope nodded, kissed Dalton's cheek, and headed for the river.

"And Lady Knight—"

Penelope turned and blinked at Sir Liam.

"You're doing a noble thing. Some of us realize it."

MMMM

Pretending to be unafraid was difficult enough, Penelope thought, pretending to be oblivious to approaching danger was far worse. She knew the Immortals were just twenty feet away—just out of knife throwing distance—but she forced herself to bend and pick a flower as though she hadn't seen them prowling through the trees. She glanced back at where she knew the knights were hidden and gave the signal for "be ready." Then she stood, dropping the knives into her hands. She screamed loudly so that the Tauros would turn towards her and threw both knives.

One knife hit a Tauros' heart, the other missed by inches. But it didn't matter. Dalton and the others were already charging from the trees. The Immortals were dead in a matter of seconds.

Penelope found Dalton retrieving her knives. She took them from him and stepped into his arms. "Let's not tell Neal about this," she whispered childishly. She settled her forehead against his shoulder. "Or Mindelan. Or Alanna. I'd like to at least pretend I've outgrown their scolding."

"Actually, I was planning on telling Wyldon," Dalton muttered. "He'll lecture you, scold me, and, hopefully, disembowel Marcel and Gordon. Probably all at the same time."

Penelope chuckled appreciatively. "The area's clear; we could get several hours of decent travel in if we left now."

Dalton kissed the top of her head. "Ready when you are. Do you want do the honors or shall I?"

Penelope stepped back and smiled. "I will, if you'll collect the twins."

Dalton nodded, kissed her once more, and trotted away. Penelope brushed off her trousers—she wouldn't have worn a skirt into battle even if Gordon had ordered her to and had no idea where he'd gotten the impression that she traveled with one—and marched over to where the rest of the knights had gathered.

She had to clear her throat to get their attention. "Might I have a word, Sir Gordon?"

He blinked down at her and nodded irritably.

Penelope managed a graceful, ladylike smile. "Goodbye." She nodded at all of them before marching up the hill and striking her tent.

Marcel passed her as she was loading gear onto their horses. "So, you've finally come to your senses and decided to—"

"leave an officer whose commands—or lack thereof—aren't in our squires best interest and return to our duties at the palace," Penelope finished pleasantly—there was a certain satisfaction in pretending to be pleasant, she decided, mostly because it flummoxed Marcel. "Unfortunately, of course, that means you'll have to kill the next aggressive Immortal you come upon yourselves, but you ought to be able to manage—you are grown knights after all."

MMMM

"Gather here!" Kel called to her pages. And then she had to grip the top rail of the fence as a sudden pain passed through her.

Only Selena noticed, widening her eyes and setting a gentle hand on Kel's arm.

"Staff drills," Kel shouted, "first years pair with fourth years." She took a deep breath and turned to Selena. "It's time."

Selena nodded as though Kel had proposed adding lance work to the afternoon's curriculum. "Can you walk to the infirmary? Neal's there."

"I'm not sure."

"I'll come with you then," Selena muttered. "Just let me settle things here." She squeezed Kel's arm reassuringly. "Roland!"

He dropped his staff and hurried over.

"Go find Dom and tell him to meet Mindelan in the infirmary," Selena ordered. Roland nodded, flashed Kel the briefest of worried smiles, and sprinted away.

"Fergus!" Selena called. "I need you to fetch Wyldon." The boy dropped his staff eagerly and hurried away. "Keep drilling," Selena order the rest of the pages, who had stopped to watch, "we don't need any more errand runners."

Kel meanwhile was watching Fergus's rapidly retreating back. "He's been holding back on us during training runs," she murmured distractedly.

"I'll have a word with Wyldon about that," Selena assured her, taking her hand and tugging her in the direction of the infirmary.

_I know it's cliffie—probably worst than the last one—but I wanted to assure certain anxious reviewers that we will be getting back to Kel in the very next episode, which I hope to have up in one week (crazy schedule permitting—the hamsters are running fast but they haven't fallen out of the wheel yet!). Until then happy reading, writing, and reviewing!_


	8. Incoherence

_Thanks to all my wonderfully amazing reviewers—you've inspired a Friday night update. All recognizable characters belong to Tamora Pierce. This episode begins roughly 12 hours after the last one ended. (I'm dragging my squeamish self through forensic anthropology and don't have it in me to write messy birth scenes on the side.) _

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Neal muttered as soon as he was sure that Kel was out of danger—she hadn't been in grave danger and both babies were perfectly healthy, but Neal had never liked facing the healing emergencies, however small, of the people he cared about, and he had never dealt well with stress.

Dom looked up from the twins in his arms and added, firmly, "ever."

Kel blinked at them dazedly and murmured, "but there were two." She lifted her head long enough to smile at Dom before dropping it back onto the pillow. "You should have expected it to be more difficult—you're the one with the pessimistic streak."

"That applies to enemies only," Neal told her. "I like to think the best of my friends and their arriving offspring."

"I believe Lord Wyldon calls it your 'selective cynicism'," Selena murmured as she returned to the bedside with wet cloths and a clean nightgown to tidy Kel up. "He disapproves of the inconsistency."

"He would," Neal grumbled and went to go wash his own hands and face. His hands were shaking now that he no longer needed to keep them steady.

"I'll be fine," Kel called softly, "you can go back to worrying about Penelope now." And then she turned back to Dom, murmuring softly. Neal guessed they were arguing about names, but he was too tired to listen.

MMMM

He left Kel half-asleep in Dom's arms (with both babies snuggled between them) and brewed a pot of tea, which he carried to the sitting room adjoining the infirmary.

"You'd make a good midwife," he told Selena, passing her a mug. "You've got the clear-headed-calm-during-a-crisis mentality for it."

"Which is going to make her a first-rate knight," Wyldon growled from the corner. "Don't plant other ideas in her head, Queenscove."

"Pardon me, sir," Neal muttered, pouring another cup of tea—no milk or sugar for Wyldon—"I didn't realize you were here. I meant only that Selena was a great help during a long and difficult delivery. I'm certainly not advocating a change of—"

"How's Mindelan?" Wyldon barked.

"Exhausted but healthy." Neal poured his own (very well deserved and with lots of milk and sugar) mug of tea. "As are the twins—healthy, that is—I think they're too young to be exhausted—though they are sleeping, so perhaps they—"

"Drink your tea, Queenscove."

Neal nodded and took several restorative sips. Selena finished her tea and promptly fell asleep. Wyldon lifted her legs onto the sofa and draped a blanket over her. Then he returned to gazing thoughtfully at the rug.

"She's resting now—Kel, I mean—though obviously Selena is as well—but I think she might be up for a few minutes conversation if you want to see—speak—with her—and Dom's with her—probably not very coherent though—"

"You aren't either, Queenscove," Wyldon muttered. "So long as it won't disturb her rest, I'll see her whether or not she's lucid. Or is it her husband who's incoherent? That seems more likely. Or perhaps you mean that the twins, precocious though they undoubtedly will be, aren't quite prepared for adult conversation?"

MMMM

Dom nodded at Neal and murmured something in Kel's ear. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked happily at Neal.

"Where's Fira?"

"She's with Tobe in the Riders' barracks. Daine doesn't think she's ever going to want to leave; apparently, they're all spoiling her rotten. She has your inappropriately seasonal cats, by the way, so I don't know if you'll ever get them back either. Daine has the cats that is—Wyldon was right." Neal shook his head.

"He usually is," Kel murmured. "What about this time?"

Neal ignored her question. "He's waiting outside. He'd like to see you, if you feel up to it."

Kel nodded.

Dom helped her sit up. "You should be flattered. I don't think he was there when his own children were born."

"I'm not entirely certain he was there when his children were conceived for that matter," Neal muttered. He lifted the sleeping twins one by one and tucked them into a cradle beside the bed.

"Watch what you imply about my wife, Queenscove," Wyldon called from the doorway.

Neal swallowed audibly and appeared to contemplate leaping out the window before Kel came to his rescue.

"Apparently, it's my fault, sir, for scaring him silly this afternoon."

"You mean last night; it's nearly morning. But he ought to be accustomed to your stunts by now." Wyldon nodded at Dom and came to perch on a stool beside the bed. "How are you feeling, Mindelan?"

"Like I've been jousting with Raoul for a week straight and lost every match," Kel muttered.

Wyldon actually winced. "I don't imagine many knights would survive the rigors of childbirth."

Kel chuckled weakly, earning herself an alarmed glare and a hissed "be still!" from Neal.

Wyldon smiled and took Kel's hand. "I'll leave you to your rest soon. Take your time recovering—Selena and I will see to everything for the next few months. You just see to your little ones"—Wyldon peered into the cradle—"who look like they're going to be remarkably large and lively in a few weeks."

"But—" Kel began. Dom caught Wyldon's eye and pulled a hand over Kel's mouth before she could finish.

"I find I've rather missed it," Wyldon said calmly. "It will be nice to work with young people again for a time. And Penelope and Dalton will be here to assist in a day or so." He cleared his throat. "You rest Kel. You're going to have both your hands full for a long time."

Kel nodded, and, obedient as ever, drifted off again before he'd left the room.

MMMM

"Good morning," Kel murmured when Tobe and Kefira appeared in the infirmary doorway.

"But it's afternoon, Mama," Kefira protested, bounding across the room and scrambling into Kel's bed.

"Hmmm." Kel kissed the top of Kefira's head. "I've had such a lie-in I've lost track of time." She'd been too busy sleeping, and nursing, and burping, and adjusting to the miracle of counting to two. "Did you have a nice time with the Riders?"

"Tessa showed me how to sneak into the kitchens and we got an entire cake after dinner. I don't see why Tobe hasn't married her yet."

"Much as I appreciate your approval, Fira," Tobe muttered, taking up a position at the foot of the bed, "I'm afraid that isn't possible."

"Of course not." Kel smiled fondly at Tobe, who shuffled his feet awkwardly. "He would have to introduce her to the rest of the family first."

"Well, I think he should," Kefira said more loudly.

"Quiet," Tobe muttered. "You don't want to wake the babies."

"What a thoughtful recommendation," Dom whispered, "and completely unprompted by any ulterior motive, I feel sure." He lifted Kefira off the bed and settled her in his lap, gesturing for Tobe to take the other chair. "We should let them sleep, though," he told his daughter, "your mother went to a great deal of trouble to settle them."

Kefira stepped onto his knees so that she could peer into the cradle. "Sleeping is boring," she pronounced, sitting back down. "What are their names?"

"We haven't quite decided yet," Dom told her.

Kefira was decidedly unimpressed. "But we have to call them something, Da." She hopped off his lap and put her hands on her hips. "If you don't decide, I'll name them myself."

Neal applauded softly from the other end of the infirmary. "I do believe that was an ultimatum."

"We wouldn't want her to name them after days of the week, now would we?" Tobe added.

Kel and Dom blinked at one another.

"Very well," Kel said slowly. "Your sister is Wilda and—"

"Your brother is Peregrine," Dom finished.

Kefira gave a satisfied nod and climbed back into Dom's lap.

Neal let out a sigh of relief. "So long as none are named after me."

"Don't worry," Dom told him. "We're waiting to name all three triplets after you."

Kel and Neal both shot him equally horrified glances, but Tobe calmly started muttering under his breath, counting out variants of Neal's name on his fingers to determine the viability of Dom's threat.

MMMM

Three days later, Penelope and Dalton had nearly finished their return journey.

"Let's not bother making camp," Rissa suggested.

"If we just keep riding, we should make it to the palace a few hours after dark," Vina added. "And then we could sleep in our own beds."

It was an undeniably appealing offer. Penelope caught Dalton's eye. He nodded at her, narrowed his eyes at the afternoon sun, and nodded again.

"We probably shouldn't let them think they can control our itinerary," he muttered in an undertone, "but I have been considering it all day."

Six hours later—and more than a few hours after sunset, since their calculations had been so optimistic as to be unrealistic—they left the twins at their door in the squires' quarters and shuffled tiredly to their own room.

"I'd forgotten how small our room was," Penelope said as she kicked off her boots, "somehow, I thought it would be bigger than our tent."

"It's not much bigger than our bed," Dalton muttered, dropping his tunic in a crumpled heap. "Not that it needs to be," he added, tugging gently at Penelope's wrist so that she sprawled comfortably beside him.

Penelope settled herself in his arms. "Particularly not since we have it all to ourselves," she murmured, her lips warm against his neck.

MMMM

They slept later than they had meant to the next morning, so they had to dress hurriedly, skip breakfast, and run to Mindelan's quarters for a brief introduction to her twins—who slept blissfully through the entire encounter and whom a bleary-eyed Dom refused to wake on the grounds that they had been up most of the night—before arriving—only a few minutes late—to assist Lord Wyldon with the pages' morning training. The morning passed in something of a blur—which Penelope put down to insufficient food and sleep—though she thought she spotted Dalton and Wyldon exchanging a few whispers.

Jousting practice ended rather abruptly and quite violently when two of the fourth years decided to charge at each other. Wyldon promised collective punishment and dismissed all the pages, ordering Selena and Dalton to escort the injured parties to the infirmary since neither one was capable of walking independently. Penelope righted the quintain that had been knocked aside and returned to find Wyldon gathering scattered lances.

"You shouldn't have to do this, sir," she told him, bending to help.

"People often find themselves doing things they shouldn't have to, Proudcreek. You ought to be particularly familiar with the phenomenon."

So Dalton had told him, Penelope thought, tightening her grip on the lance she was carrying. "That doesn't mean I think it's fair, sir."

"Yet you never seem to let unfair stop you from doing what needs to be done," Wyldon muttered.

"No, sir," Penelope mumbled, eager to redirect the conversation. "I was rather struck by Kel's daughter's name," she said quickly. "It rather resembles your own."

"And you didn't notice that her son's name—like yours—begins with 'p' and contains three 'e's?"

"Er," Penelope muttered.

Wyldon tugged the last of the lances from her unresisting fingers and stacked it in the shed. "I'm sure you won't let my observation go to your head."

"Of course not," Penelope muttered, watching as he secured the door. "But I think you should let mine go to your heart." She darted forward and wrapped her arms around him in a light embrace before scurrying away, leaving Wyldon blinking at the practice ring he had ruled for so many years.

_Hope you enjoyed. Note the absence of a cliffhanger! I'll try to have the next episode up shortly. Best weekend wishes to all readers and reviewers. _


	9. Infamy

_Many thanks to all my thoughtful readers and reviewers; I've imported Owen for you. This episode takes place a few weeks after the last one and all of the recognizable characters contained herein belong to Tamora Pierce. _

Selena lay stretched across the rug of Wyldon's study, reading with her head propped comfortably against his dog, Greyson. She knew Wyldon would probably scold both of them when he returned, but she was too comfortable to care. And by now she'd learned that certain varieties of his scolding—like some of Greyson's growls—were demonstrations of affection and respect.

She was rather surprised when the door opened and instead of criticizing her posture, someone plopped down beside her on the rug. Greyson growled softly but did not stir.

"I'd forgotten how comfortable this one is."

Selena dropped _Tortall's Formative Campaigns _onto her chest and blinked at the newcomer.

"Hello," he said, propping himself up on one elbow so that he could offer her his hand. "I'm Owen."

"Selena," she told him. "I think I've heard of you. Are you the one with the 'abysmally small and jovial vocabulary' and the 'oppressively optimistic outlook'?"

"Oh, now I'm infamous. Isn't that jolly?"

"I should probably thank you," she told him. "Wyldon's of the opinion that you er, 'softened' him and 'enforced flexibility'."

Owen shrugged. "I'm sure you'd have managed if everything he's written about you is true and since my lord isn't one to exaggerate—"

"Owen!" Wyldon barked. "What are you doing on the floor? My squire doesn't need you to teach her any more bad habits." He scowled at Selena, who jumped to her feet and managed a quick bow before Wyldon shoved a scroll of parchment into her hands. "Go find Penelope and Dalton," he ordered. "The three of you are to organize an interactive lesson on the Battle of Greenpoint." He glanced meaningfully at the parchment. "It should be an instructive exercise for all parties involved."

"Isn't that the point, sir?" Owen said cheekily.

"Indeed," Wyldon murmured. "Meanwhile, Owen and I have a few fam—er matters to discuss." He gestured towards the door.

Selena nodded and fled, leaving Owen to his fate.

MMMM

"Come in," Dalton called, glancing at the door as he nudged Penelope's last castle from the chessboard.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening," Selena murmured.

"Don't be," Penelope, who was sitting on a corner of the bed while Dalton occupied the only chair, told her. "He was winning again."

"Wyldon's given us an assignment," Selena explained. "He wants us to divide the pages into armies and have them fight out the Battle of Greenpoint."

Dalton frowned. "The one that essentially turned into a five year stalemate?"

Selena nodded. "Presumably we'll be allowed to declare a ceasefire at suppertime."

Penelope winced. "I'll make us some tea," she muttered.

Dalton cleared away their chess game and pulled out a clothes chest for Selena to sit on as they planned their battle. He scanned Wyldon's note.

"I suppose we'll have to use the hill out past the Riders' pasture," he said.

Penelope passed Selena her tea and then sat in Dalton's lap, spreading out a fresh parchment so they could draw up lists. "I think if we assign Roland to be the Northern general then…"

"Fergus would have to be the Western one," Selena finished.

"But how are we going to divide up the first years?" Dalton muttered. "Alphabetically?"

"By the third letter in all their names," Selena said.

Penelope nodded. "So Wyldon thinks we've tried to carefully balance out their abilities."

MMMM

"I think we have them confused," Dalton muttered as he rebalanced himself on the oak branch beside Penelope and Selena. They were using it as a vantage point to supervise their two "armies".

"Oh, they're more than confused," Selena muttered. " The whole wing is positively up in arms after last night. The gossips can't decide which one of you I'm sleeping with."

"I suppose I should be flattered." Penelope took a swig from her waterskin and passed it to Dalton. "Marcus, sit down! They've killed you," she called to a second-year suddenly spattered in blue paint.

"They haven't decided it's both of us?" Dalton asked, passing the skin to Selena.

Selena shook her head. "Then they'd have to give up their betting pool. And they aren't sure—Marcus, you're dead!"

"I am not!"

"Very well," Penelope told him. "You're mortally wounded and your guts are seeping out your side. Now sit down and act like it."

Marcus dropped onto his knees and began moaning at the top of his lungs. Roland took advantage of the noise to lead a charge against Fergus and Penelope used it to whisper to Selena, "I'm afraid they're going to keep at it until they decide which one of us is your type."

"I know," Selena muttered. "Hopefully, they'll tell me when they figure it out, since I haven't a clue." She took a sip of water. "You're wounded Peter, sit out for twenty minutes," she ordered.

"Marcus sit back down!" Dalton shouted.

"You just haven't met the right person yet," Penelope murmured. "Aidan, you're dead, lie down—no not there, someone will trip over you."

"I don't think there is a right person for Lord Wyldon's squire," Selena muttered, "not that I have time for one anyway." She jerked her chin at the battle. "Fergus," She called. "You're wounded again. Fall back." She pointed Fergus down the hill. Marcus tried to stand up and follow him.

"MARCUS!" Penelope roared, startling Selena so badly that Dalton had to grab her shoulder to keep her from falling out of the tree.

Marcus kneeled and blinked up at them innocently. "What if I beg for divine intervention?"

"Again," Penelope muttered, "I'm almost flattered." She shook her head. "What if I told you to start worrying about divine wrath?" she called to Marcus. He blinked and lowered himself slowly to the ground.

Marcus lay still for an entire fifteen minutes, waiting for them to be distracted by a skirmish on the other side of the hill, before he attempted to slink back to his own army.

"This would be easier if we had lightning bolts," Selena muttered. "But Wyldon would probably consider that cheating since he can smite people just by glaring at them."

"And Kel can do it with one of her deeply disappointed frowns," Penelope said absently, scanning the battlefield for errant pages.

"Speak of the higher gods and they cometh," Dalton murmured, pointing towards Wyldon and Kel, who were marching across the pasture, each carrying a baby. Rissa and Vina followed, dragging a small cartload of supplies.

"Come down and report," Wyldon called, as Vina and Rissa pulled a blanket and a picnic basket from their cart.

Selena wasn't surprised to see how comfortable Wyldon looked holding Kel's baby—after all, he managed very well with puppies—but she was rather startled when he absently passed the baby (she had no idea which twin) into her arms so that he could help Kel with the picnic basket. Selena blinked at the baby in her arms and the baby blinked back mildly.

And then Wyldon demanded to see their lists of armies, which meant she had to dig the parchment from her belt pouch. So she passed the infant to Penelope.

Penelope took a surprised step backwards and the baby gave a bewildered blink and reached up to touch her cheek with a tiny hand. Penelope half-smiled-half-winced, feeling decidedly uncoordinated. She turned instinctively towards Dalton and passed him the baby, who wailed quietly to protest so many transitions.

"Hush, now," Dalton murmured, swaying gently back and forth and tracing the baby's cheek with one finger. The baby gurgled contentedly. Meanwhile, Wyldon glanced at Dalton, expecting him to contribute to the report.

"Certain pages are having a little trouble taking their own mortality seriously," Dalton muttered, frowning at Marcus. He watched Kel settling one twin on the blanket and then laid the baby beside its sibling.

"Thanks," Kel whispered, passing him a slice of bread and a wedge of cheese.

MMMM

"Picnics and mock-battles—that's doubly jolly," Owen said as he and Neal joined them for lunch.

"He's skipping," Wyldon growled softly, "I thought I'd cured him of skipping."

Kel shook her head, struggling to hold her lips together. "Perhaps he's relapsed, sir."

"And these are your little ones?" Owen knelt eagerly beside the babies.

"Though she'll be quick to tell you they're Dom's too," Neal muttered.

"Really they've become a sort of group endeavor," Kel said. "This is Wil—"

"Actually, that's Peregrine," Rissa interrupted softly.

"And this is Wilda." Vina indicated the other twin. "We switched their blankets," she confessed.

"Thought we'd give them a head start at the delights of mistaken identities," Rissa explained.

Wyldon's jaw twitched slightly; Owen grinned; Neal winced and patted Kel's shoulder sympathetically; Penelope bit her lip; Dalton shrugged; Selena said, "maybe they're getting it out of the way early"; and both babies blinked happily.

Kel kept a surreptitious eye on both sets of twins throughout the afternoon, as history repeated itself and the bloody Battle of Greenpoint ended in another uncomfortable stalemate (even after Marcus was proclaimed miraculously healed and permitted to rejoin his comrades) but all four were on their best behavior. And Owen proclaimed the day "positively the jolliest" as he and Neal 'helped' Kel carry the babies back to her suite.

MMMM

"I enjoyed today more than I expected to." Penelope splashed water on her slightly sunburned face.

"It was good to see Kel out again," Dalton agreed as he tossed his tunic—coated in mud, blue paint, and baby drool—onto their dirty clothes heap. "And I'm never going to forget Wyldon's face when Wilda spit up all over his shirt and he just wiggled his nose until she giggled."

"You were good with her too," Penelope murmured. "I wasn't."

"I have the supposed advantage of assorted younger sisters and cousins. You would have been fine, if you'd let yourself." Dalton wrapped his fingers around her shoulder.

"But you were more than fine. You were—you looked like you want—" Penelope bit her lip and gazed down at the washbasin.

"Turn around," Dalton told her, tugging her shoulder until she did so. She watched his face sadly. "That's not my decision," he said gently. "And I'm shamefully grateful I won't ever be the one who has to make it. At the moment, we have two squires and no money and each other and I am quite content." He kissed her forehead lightly and she stepped into his arms. "We'll see what life brings us in a few years."

"But—" Penelope said, feeling that she ought to say something. "I'm sorry."

"Exactly what are you apologizing for? Everyone likes Kel's babies—even you, even Wyldon. It's a universal human response even for people who have been unfairly bullied by small children." Dalton pulled out her hair tie and began unraveling her braid. "Do you know what I like best about Kel's babies?"

Penelope shook her head so that her hair fell loosely around her cheeks.

"The fact that we hand them back to her at the end of the afternoon."

"Oh," Penelope said. "Me too. Though the fact that they can't talk yet is a close second—the gurgling is rather endearing."

Dalton shook his head. "How do you know they aren't just finishing each other's gurgles?"

_So Selena's been shouldering her way into the story a bit…anyway, next episode should be up sometime in October, once I pass through the dark abyss of midterm madness. Thanks for reading and reviewing in the meantime. _

_P.S. Who else has noticed my completely unplanned trend of chapters beginning in 'In'? I promise there will be no chapter titled (or depicting) incest. _


	10. Innocence and Intoxication

_Hello again and thanks for all of your wonderful and inspiring reviews. This episode takes place a month or so after the last. As always, characters and location belong to Tamora Pierce. _

At the king's request, Kel and Wyldon hosted a rather large gathering for the fall's incoming and returning pages and their parents in the hopes of reassuring conservatives and progressives alike that their children would be well educated by their unconventional training master and her small army of assistants. The party filled the palace parlor and spread out into the gardens.

From the guests' perspective the event was a spectacular success (largely because the royal family had been generous in supplying food and wine—which Kel and Wyldon concluded was rather a mistake—for everyone.) After several conversations with boastful parents, however, Wyldon began to think he might prefer sitting down for a heart to heart conversation with Lady Alanna. His mood was scarcely improved when Marcus's drunken uncle assumed that Selena, who was standing patiently at Wyldon's elbow, was his granddaughter. And even Kel grew bad-tempered after she was swarmed by so many parents that she had to pass the babies off to Dom.

Dom immediately exiled himself to the far corner of the gardens and attempted to quiet the fussing infants with little success.

Dalton hurried over to assist him, driven partly out of pity and partly by the desire to avoid explaining to yet another mother that Neal, who had seemingly managed to vanish, was quite capable of managing whatever injuries her darling managed to acquire during training.

"Don't tell Kel," Dom hissed as he passed one of the babies to Dalton, "but I still can't tell them apart."

Dalton frowned thoughtfully at the infant in his arms. "This is Wilda."

Dom gaped at him.

"She has a tiny mole behind her left ear, see?"

Dom nodded. "How did you figure that—"

"I didn't." Dalton laughed. "Both the twins—our twins—have always been able to tell them apart, so I bribed Rissa into telling me. She can be a bit single-minded when it comes to cinnamon biscuits."

"I'll keep that in mind," Dom muttered. "How do you tell them apart?"

"She's wearing green today—we talked them into wearing different colors for the party."

Dom nodded. "Then perhaps you'd better go extricate her." He pointed to where the widower Lord Dorset was reaching towards Rissa's shoulder and loudly (and drunkenly) questioning whether such a fine-looking girl really spent her days ordering little boys about. "I know she's quite capable of extricating herself," Dom muttered, "but Dorset happens to be standing in front of a very rare rosebush and we wouldn't want anything to happen to it."

Dalton nodded and walked across the yard, still balancing Wilda against his side. But Vina beat him to Lord Dorset.

"Sister, dear," she called in the saccharine voice Dalton had come to associate with particularly devious mischief. Then she rushed forward, winking once at Dalton before she 'tripped' into Dorset, spilling a very full goblet of wine across his pale blue suit.

"I'm terribly sorry," she murmured, mopping at him with her handkerchief and managing to soak his neck in the process.

"You'll have to forgive my sister," Rissa said, offering him an already soiled handkerchief of her own. "We're so accustomed to dashing across the practice courts that we often forget ourselves at finer occasions."

"Quite," Dorset muttered before marching away, leaving the twins grinning at one another.

Dalton glanced down at Wilda. "I hope you were watching carefully." She blinked thoughtfully up at him.

MMMM

Daine, meanwhile, was in dire need of extrication herself and was seriously considering transforming into a cuckoo bird and flying away from the parents who wanted to know if their five-year-old daughter (a girl Daine had never met and who had been left at home while her brother was delivered to the palace) might possibly have a trace of wild magic. The parents had just finished listing the child's every encounter with her brother's pony and were beginning to chronicle her interactions with the family cat. She glanced sideways at Numair and found him similarly entangled by another set of ambitious parents.

She closed her eyes and yawned hugely. When she opened her eyes again the proud parents had started arguing with one another over whether or not the cat had wrapped his tail around their daughter's wrist. Daine found herself thinking of unpleasant things to say to Kel when this was over—supposing that the party actually ended. In the meantime, she felt subterfuge was in order.

_Hello Whisper, _she greeted the kitten lurking in the bushes, _I need a little help. _

The yowling began a minute later and it was followed by high-pitched chirping and trilling from several species of birds.

"What's this racket?" shrilled the mother. "I can barely hear myself think."

_Lucky you,_ Daine thought as she pretended to glance up at the tree. "It's mating season," Daine had to shout to be heard. "They'll probably be at it all night. But I don't think it will be as loud indoors."

"Yes, well, thank you for all of your invaluable insights," the mother said, taking her husband's arm, "but we ought to be on our way."

The chirping abated slightly after they departed, but the yowling continued. Numair caught Daine's eye and she winked at him.

He cleared his throat. "It sounds as though a cat has lodged himself in a tree. Wouldn't want to leave the poor fellow up there, would we? You'll have to excuse me while I help him down. But I'm sure our resident basilisk will be delighted to answer the rest of your questions about the magical curriculum." He smiled once more at the parents and hurried to join Daine.

"Mating season? In the fall?" He fell into step beside her as they walked towards Whisper's yowling.

"I thought 'preening season' might be a little insulting."

"You're severely overestimating their intelligence." Numair grinned. "And feeding them a rather preposterous lie."

"I didn't lie exactly." Daine's smile was wide-eyed and innocent. "I didn't say it was the birds' mating season. And two-leggers—"

"—mate year round," Numair finished, whispering in her ear and then kissing her cheek. "Yes, I believe we've established that."

Completely belying his name, Whisper gave a particularly emphatic howl.

"Jealous little monster," Numair muttered fondly, reaching up to lift the kitten down.

Daine covered her smile with one hand at the endearing sight of the tiny kitten beside Numair's face.

"He's quite capable of jumping down on his own, you know," she murmured.

"Then why am I always helping him get off our wardrobe?"

"He prefers to have you lift him down," Daine said.

"You might have mentioned it to me," Numair attempted to glare at Whisper and found it impossible with the cat blinking back at him so mildly and purring loudly.

"It's amusing to watch," Daine admitted. "And I rather share his preference."

"We aim to please," Numair said, holding Whisper up to eye level, "apparently at the expense of dignity." Cat-formed herself, Daine sprang nimbly onto his shoulder and draped herself over his neck as he snuck away from the hordes of ambitious parents.

MMMM

"Really?" said Penelope, "you wouldn't mind if we escaped for a little while?"

Kel nodded and then realized she ought to clarify her response. After all, Daine and Numair had already abandoned the party. "In a few days. You can leave for Pirates' Swoop when we leave for fall camp."

Penelope grinned rather guiltily. "Are you sure you can manage fall—"

"Really," Kel said. "I'm quite confident that Wyldon, Selena, Dom, Neal, Owen, and I can handle two weeks of fall camp." She stretched her arms. "It should be easy after this afternoon."

Penelope smiled. "You've forgotten Kefira."

"No, she's just grabbing a tart at the side table," Kel muttered as her daughter trotted back with a raspberry splotch on her cheek and wiped her sticky fingers on Kel's tunic.

"No, I mean you forgot to list her as part of your team." Penelope winked at Kefira. "She ran the staff drills yesterday, you know."

Kel blinked and brushed the crumbs from her daughter's lips. "Did you?"

Kefira nodded solemnly. "I wanted to call the sword drills too, but Wyldon said I didn't need "preposterous oceans" going to my head."

"Notions," Penelope clarified.

"I see," Kel said. "Well, he may have had a point. We want to save a few things for you to learn during your own page years."

"But Mama, can't I just skip being a page and go straight to being a squire." Kefira tugged lightly on Kel's tunic. "Penelope and Dalton will need a new one in four years."

"No," Kel said, firmly.

"Think how much bigger and stronger you'll be after you've trained as a page," Penelope added. "You'll do a much better job as a squire then."

"I suppose," Kefira muttered. She shot her mother one more pleading look before dashing back to the table.

"Don't even think about permanently relocating," Kel told her. "I will need you back again."

"We wouldn't dream of leaving," Dalton said, stepping up to pass Wilda to

Kel. And Penelope smiled. The palace was home for her and for Dalton. She hadn't been back to her family estate in years and couldn't imagine living there—or anyway far from Neal and Kel and Selena and even Wyldon.

Kel nodded gratefully, secured Wilda in her arms, and dropped onto the nearest bench.

Dom walked up and nodded at all of them. "I think things are winding down," he told Kel, gesturing at the empty expanse of twilit garden behind them. "You ought to release your minions."

"Thank you for tolerating hours of parental scrutiny," Kel said, waving Penelope and Dalton away.

"And we're sorry about the bothersome marriage proposals," Dom added, clapping Dalton on the shoulder.

"Lady Katherine was rather drunk," Dalton explained sheepishly, taking Penelope's arm.

"I'm not the least bit jealous," Penelope assured him. "She was more than rather drunk when she proposed to me. Or it might have been Selena she was addressing." She paused thoughtfully. "Or both of us. That was just before Wyldon escorted her out."

"He is rather protective of Selena," Dalton murmured dryly. "Speaking of which we ought to find—"

But Rissa and Vina appeared before he could finish. They were both completely drenched.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for this," Penelope said and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

"Good," said Rissa. "Then you won't mind if we take a minute or two to put it into words."

"Don't give them more than twenty seconds," Neal told them as he rounded the bend, in a thoroughly splashed tunic. "Or they'll compose an epic."

"We went swimming," said Vina. "In the pond."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Rissa added.

"Though in hindsight—"

"it may well have been a mistake."

"Luckily, none of the parents saw us—"

"except Dorset. But then he fell in after us."

"And the cold water seems to have done him some good--"

"once he'd swallowed half the pond anyway."

Dalton narrowed his eyes and Penelope took a deep breath, trying to compose a suitable.

"They did start out rescuing Lord Mirthwell's toddler," Neal muttered cheerfully.

"And then we were already wet," Rissa said.

"So we thought we might as well be properly wet," Vina finished.

"I see," said Dalton, and Penelope could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter. "You were doing things properly."

They both nodded fervently.

"You two on the other hand," Neal put in, "are failing utterly in your knightly duties." He shook his head. "I know you can manage a fiercer scowl than that, Penelope."

Penelope only shrugged, perhaps if she hadn't spent so much of the afternoon wishing she could push various inquisitive mothers and dubious fathers into the pond…

"I suppose one ought to give them credit for pure impulsive, idiotic, reckless bravery," Neal said finally.

_So, hope you've enjoyed. I thought a little fluff was in order as an anecdote to mid-semester craziness. Reading and reviewing is also an effective remedy… And happy October everyone!_


	11. Integrity

_Welcome back! Sorry for the midterm hiatus and thanks for all the lovely reviews that kept me cheerful even when I couldn't write. In the previous episode, Wyldon and Kel (with reluctant assistance from Daine, Numair, Penelope, and Dalton) held a rather eventful party. This episode begins a few days later as fall camps starts. As always, the cast and real estate belong to Tamora Pierce—the rest of us are here for a much-needed mental vacation. Enjoy!_

"You don't need to be so crabby—it's not my fault they left today," Kel told Neal when she caught him scowling at her.

Neal shook the rainwater out of his hair and lifted his head to glare at her. He wanted to blame her for the weather, but that would be truly irrational, not merely unreasonable. "You're the one who encouraged their little excursion to Pirates' Swoop," he muttered. "And I'm not being crabby. I'm personifying irritability."

"You're past thirty," Kel reminded him. She wasn't feeling particularly good-humored herself. "You're too old to be making—"

"Perhaps, I ought to take my aged self home to sit by the fire," Neal said.

Wyldon coughed loudly. "You are forgetting, Queenscove, that if anyone here has the right to act the part of the old curmudgeon, it is my arthritic self."

"Was that a request for a pain-easing draught?"

"It was a factual statement, Queenscove. Just as you stated earlier that fall camp always attracts the foulest the weather possible." Wyldon squared his shoulders resignedly. "But I suppose that's for the best," he added, with a glance at Owen, "as it keeps jovial mischief to a minimum."

"Theoretically," Selena murmured. She was watching Marcus glance from the mud to Roland with a vindictive expression.

Kefira, Nessa, and Sarra trotted up just then, mud spattered and laughing loudly. They waved happily at their parents before hurrying back down the line of pages.

"Perhaps we all ought to take after our children," Dom muttered.

Daine told him, "you only suggest that because yours doesn't turn into a rampaging hippopotamus when she's in a temper."

Owen turned around to watch the girls' riding away. "Does she now? You must have really lively arguments."

"Indeed," Numair muttered.

"It smells like the rain will let up soon." Daine rather pointedly changed the subject. "I imagine we'll have a clear day tomorrow."

Neal couldn't decide whether or not he hoped the clouds would move south. There was something satisfying about imagining the inanely optimistic things Vina and Rissa might have to tell Penelope about the rain.

MMMM

The sudden rain surprised both Penelope and Dalton and their squires as they wandered along the creek on foot, enjoying a leisurely afternoon on their way to Pirates' Swoop. Fortunately, they had already set up their tent. Unfortunately, they were soaked by the time they reached it.

"I expect it to let up any minute now," Penelope grumbled as she wrestled with the tent flaps. "At least that would prove my theory that the Goddess has a very odd sharp sense of humor." As if in response, it began raining harder than ever as soon as she'd said this.

"I think it's just the Goddess's time of the month," Vina muttered, as she peeled off her boots.

Rissa grinned. "Undoubtedly. Dare you to tell that to the nearest priestess." She reached for her saddle pack and pulled off her shirt and tunic.

Dalton calmly averted his eyes.

Vina glanced at him with a bemused expression. "Aren't you going to scold her for changing in front of you."

Dalton shrugged. "She can do what she likes with her body and her clothing. Just as I can control what I do with my eyes. Personally, I think that most men—except Wyldon, he's just inherently decent—but most men who can't stop scolding girls for being immodest are attracted to them and unwilling to admit it. But I'm not and it's wet out and I wouldn't want anyone to catch a cold on my account."

"Oh," Vina said, "good." She at least turned around before peeling off her clothes.

Dalton lifted a shielding hand to the side of his face and turned to find Penelope shaking with silent laughter as she pulled off her trousers.

"He is watching her though," Rissa told Vina in a loud stage whisper.

"That's a different matter entirely," Dalton said. _And I'd do more than watch if they weren't here,_ he mouthed at Penelope.

She raised an eyebrow and tossed him a set of dry clothes. "And I'll be the only one watching him," she informed the squires.

MMMM

Kel took advantage of the sunny morning to send the pages out in mapmaking groups. She allowed Kefira to tag along with Roland's group since they were assigned the area closest to the camp. Neal and Owen took the other children to the creak and Kel rather hoped that Neal would wind up soaked for the second afternoon in a row. She and Dom made a long circuit of the area on foot, carrying Wilda and Peregrine and pausing to supervise each group in turn.

Kel was so busy watching Peregrine's smile that she nearly walked into Wyldon as they returned to the edge of the tent-filled clearing.

He coughed slightly and stepped nimbly out of her way, murmuring to himself. "Uncannily familiar."

Kel blinked and saw that he was gazing up a large pine. At her daughter, she realized with a stomach lurching certainty, who was stubbornly following Roland to the tree's uppermost branches in order to assist with the drawing. She felt herself swallow audibly.

"Don't worry," Daine called from her comfortable seat between Numair's knees at the base of the tree. "I'll be large and winged the moment she slips or gets stuck."

Kel nodded gratefully, watching in amazement as Kefira waved cheerfully at her. She forced herself to wave back.

"Though clearly she doesn't take after her mother in all things," Wyldon added.

Kel nodded. "No, she didn't have an older brother to dangle her by her ankles from a tower window," she said matter-of-factly.

"I did not know," Wyldon said slowly.

"No, I would have been too proud to tell you. Even if you had been willing to hear excuses masquerading as explanations."

Wyldon sighed and flexed his fingers, watching the scars stretch across his arm. "We were both particularly stubborn in those days."

"I'm not sure that much has changed," Kel said, passing Peregrine into his arms so that she could shade her eyes from the sun and watch her daughter climb.

MMMM

"You'll be fine," Dalton assured the twins, who were eyeing the approach to Pirates' Swoop anxiously as they awaited their first encounter with the Lioness. "She's predisposed to think favorably of you."

"And her temper has been rather exaggerated," Penelope added. "She never actually attacked a Carthaki Lord with a carving knife at the table, for instance."

"She's just very hard-headed," Dalton explained. "Rather like Wyldon actually."

Penelope had a sudden and violent coughing fit. Dalton winked as he passed her his waterskin and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Really?" Vina asked, eyes wide.

Dalton glanced back at her. "If either of you ever share that particular opinion with either of them, you will spend the next year scouring and polishing intricate detail work on armor."

"But you don't have very mu—"

"We know plenty of people to borrow it from," Penelope informed them. "Assuming that you survive the results of telling whomever you tell."

"Which will be no one," Vina said quickly.

Rissa blinked. "What is there to tell?"

"Kel told us they'd learn fast," Penelope muttered to Dalton as they rode through the gate into Pirates' Swoop.

Moments later George and Alanna were pulling them into their sitting room, cheerfully ignoring their accumulated travel grime, calling for tea, and settling them onto a sofa, where Alanna could survey all four of them at once. Penelope was pleased to recognize a distinct gleam of approval in her mentor's eyes. She and Dalton smiled sideways at each other as the twins—seated between them—lunged together towards a tray of cakes.

"So, Dalton," George called as he stirred a splash of brandy into his tea, "how do you enjoy sharing a tent with three women?"

Dalton blinked. Penelope appeared to be having a great deal of trouble swallowing. Alanna drew her lips together, bemused. And the twins gaped at George in open admiration.

"Erm," Dalton managed.

"Play nice, George," Alanna instructed. "He's had a long day and he's not at his most articulate."

"I suppose I feel rather outnumbered," Dalton said. It was undeniable.

"An honest diplomat," George marveled. "I should teach you a few more parlor tricks and ship you off to the Islands."

"No you shouldn't," Alanna and Penelope told him simultaneously.

George sighed. "Then I suppose I shall have to work with the next generation," he murmured, pulling two handkerchiefs out of his pocket and passing them to Rissa and Vina.

Vina gasped softly. "But this is mine—how did—" Her frown turned to a grin as she realized that her own pocket was empty.

Rissa folded her own handkerchief slowly, gazing at George with an enterprising expression. "Will you show—"

"Later," Alanna said briskly. "You can interrogate him after dinner. After you've shown me what you can do on the practice courts." She stood and beckoned for Rissa and Vina to follow.

"You've unleashed a monster," Penelope muttered after they had left.

"Not at all, my dear girl," George assured her, "I've tamed two."

"Dalton! Penelope!" Alanna summoned. "Come prove you haven't lost your form."

George smiled and lifted his teacup at them as they scurried out for a long sweaty afternoon's work.

"You were right," Vina whispered to Dalton as she passed him her wooden practice sword before they separated to wash for supper. He blinked, spotting—for the first time, he thought—a strange mark on her right fingers. There was something oddly familiar about…

"Right about what?" Alanna asked sharply.

Rissa smiled enigmatically. "Everything."

Vina nodded. "Of course, he would be. You probably taught him everything he knows."

MMMM

"This isn't quite what I imagined life as a knight would be like," Dalton murmured as they woke the next morning.

Penelope turned over sleepily, burying her face between his neck and shoulder. "Well, since I had trouble imagining that we'd live to be knights, I'd say that's not necessarily a bad thing." In fact, she thought, as far as moments went, this one was rather perfect. She didn't ever want to move and at the same time she looked forward to hauling Dalton out of bed and letting him drag her to the practice courts to meet Lady Alanna and spending the day watching the twins improve under Alanna's tutoring and George's teasing.

Dalton sighed, tracing a scar on her arm with his thumb. "Probably a good thing in fact." He lifted her hand lazily, lacing his fingers through hers.

She let her eyelids flutter shut once more, murmuring sleepily, "the Ordeal changed the way I—" Dalton's fingers tightened around her own and her eyes sprang open.

"Penelope," he said softly. "Vina has a scar across her fin—"

"I know," she said, her heart suddenly pounding (Dalton's was too—she could feel her pulse where their fingers met). "So does Rissa. They match ours—

"--the ones we got in the Chamber?" he confirmed.

She nodded and they both sat up. "I don't remember their marks being there before this week, but neither of them has been burned recently." She swallowed; she'd never liked magic much. Especially not when it appeared to be steering.

Dalton swallowed too and pulled her into his arms. "So," he breathed. "I'd offer to ask Alanna about this…"

Penelope shook her head sadly, so that her nose brushed against his cheek. "She can't stop whatever's coming." She paused thoughtfully and forced herself to smile. "Or keep us from rushing headlong into it."

"Twins in tow?" he murmured. "Or do you suppose they'll drag us into this… destiny?"

A chuckle tickled the back of her throat. "Today?" she wondered.

He shook his head, his eyes gleaming. "Or tomorrow…Or next—"

"Doesn't matter," she whispered before kissing him fiercely.

She was worried, she admitted to herself as she pulled on her clothing, and she'd be an idiot to pretend that she wasn't. But she'd learned over the years—from Kel and the Lioness—not to let that slow her down. And she'd always been practical enough to prefer confronting epic struggles fully dressed and on a full stomach (and well warmed-up, if possible.)

_Ever go to pick up a cute little plot bunny and realize it was actually a fury wart on a plot mammoth? Happens to me sometimes…But I actually think this one is under control and hope to have the story wrapped up (in fluff) in four or five episodes. Theoretically, that is. As always, many thanks to all readers and reviewers!_


	12. Interlude's End

_Hello again and thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last episode. This episode takes place a week after the last episode, in which Penelope and Dalton traveled to Pirates' Swoop and Kel took the pages on fall camp. All recognizable characters belong to Tamora Pierce. _

"Is there any point to this exercise?" Penelope demanded.

"Apart from our entertainment," Dalton clarified.

"Not that we've seen a whole lot of action," George added.

Alanna tore her eyes away from Rissa and Vina long enough to glance back at the three of them. Penelope and Dalton had long since abandoned their own duel; she now stood in Dalton's arms with her back resting again his chest. George slouched against the fence beside them, idling tossing a knife into the air and catching it.

"Though we're not complaining, lass," George muttered, shooting her a winning smile.

"I am satisfying my curiosity with a brief experiment," Alanna informed them.

Vina and Rissa both rolled their eyes and sighed loudly at the word 'brief'. They were facing each other, practice swords aloft, each waiting for an opportunity to strike. Their duel had begun thirty minutes earlier. Neither of them could move more than a few inches before the other blocked them. Occasionally, they both got the same idea simultaneously and moved like mirror images. Even Alanna found their performance uncanny, though she had expected it.

"She wants to see how long we can stand here," Rissa explained.

"Before our arms fall asleep," Vina finished.

"Shouldn't be too much longer than," George muttered. "I'll just poke my head into the kitchen and tell them we'll be wantin' supper soon." He strolled away, still tossing his knife up and down.

Alanna sighed. "It's no use, girls; we might as well call it a day. You're reading each other too well. You'll just have to find other partners when you get back to the palace." She yawned and stretched. "I suppose it proves I've spent an equal amount of time with each of you."

Penelope sighed and glanced up at the twilit sky.

"It's been a week," Dalton murmured against her hair. Indeed, it had been a week since their alarming discovery. They had said nothing, and nothing had happened. Yet. But neither of them could shake the feeling that something was about to.

Penelope turned in his arms, her eyes still upturned. "I know, but…" She shook her head and tilted her face upwards to kiss him. Neither of them needed to finish that thought. It was bad enough that they were finishing their stay at Pirates' Swoop.

MMMM

"Lioness."

Alanna spun at the whisper and found Vina standing alone behind her. She was still wearing her sweaty practice clothes and she looked smaller and paler without her twin beside her.

"I—I wanted to ask if you and your twin were the same way."

Alanna smiled sadly. "No, Thom and I weren't. He was always more sorcerer to my warrior."

"But you were still _twins_?" Vina murmured and Alanna knew from her tone she wasn't questioning their biological relationship.

She nodded. "If we hadn't been, I wouldn't be knight. I don't know who I'd be without him."

"But he isn't—" Vina stopped with a sudden flinch.

Alanna took the squire's hands in her own. "Vina, you never stop being twins, even if there's only one of you."

Vina blinked away a few tears. "That's what I'm afraid of," she muttered.

"Don't be." Alanna pulled her into a hug. "I think neither of you has anything to worry about. You each have a loyal sister guarding your backs."

MMMM

"And here marks our miraculous return to the wonders of civilization," Neal muttered in his usual half-cynical-half-amused tone as they passed through the gates and back onto palace grounds.

"Such as it is," Wyldon added crisply, the words apparently escaping from his lips of their own volition as he surveyed the disordered line of singing and shouting pages.

"A relative term, indeed, sir," Neal said, glancing cautiously at Wyldon, who appeared to be biting his own lip to keep from smiling. They blinked uncertainly at one another.

"If you ask me," Owen said. "It's rather unjolly coming back after dark like this. I always hated seeing the end of fall camp."

Neal glanced again at Wyldon and found his face impassive. Behind him, Selena lifted her head.

"My lord cannot decide whether to inform Sir Owen that no one asked his opinion or to remind him that unjolly isn't a word," she explained.

Wyldon shot his squire a look that Neal would have found frightening if it were directed at him. "You have been with me too long," he told her.

Kel made a worried swallowing sound at this.

"All the same," Wyldon continued in a gentler tone, "I will almost be sorry to see you go when you earn your shield this midwinter."

If Kel had been the sort to slump in relief, she might have at that moment. Not that it would really have been possible to slump when she was carrying one baby across her back and the other across her chest (the practice weights she'd carried as a page had been excellent training). Selena merely smiled at Wyldon as they dismounted.

Tkaa and Kitten appeared in the stables to greet Daine's family as they untacked their horses, adding even more noise and chaos to the general uproar caused by the pages' return. Wyldon grimaced—a rather fond grimace, Selena noted as she hurriedly put away her saddle so she could accompany her knight master.

"Selena," Numair called absently, his arms already full of excited dragon.

She paused at the stable entrance and blinked back at him, puzzled. They didn't speak to each other all that often. And he spent so much time wrapped up in his studies that she was surprised he remembered her name.

"We spoke some months—or perhaps years—ago about developing a light-weight metal for use in armor and weaponry."

Selena nodded. The conversation had taken place while they both waited for Wyldon and Daine to finish chatting about his hunting hounds.

"Well, an idea for the formula for such a material came to me while we were watching…" Kitten chirped as though reminding him to stay focused. "Anyway, if you can swing by our rooms sometime tomorrow I'll give you a formula to take to the smiths. I'd recommend starting with something small—an ax-head, perhaps, but then one might easily progress to…"

"Thanks," Selena told him smiling. She could see that Daine was waiting for him to help take their children up to bed. "I'll stop by after morning practice is finished."

"He should be awake by then," Daine muttered, grunting slightly as she lifted Rikash onto her hip.

"I'm not entirely certain I approve of such an endeavor," Wyldon told her as they climbed uphill towards the palace. "How will you build up strength if you're training with lighter weapons?"

"I don't intend to train with them," Selena told him. "I intend to fight with them."

"Indeed?"

"You know I often train with weighted weapons, just as Mindelan did," she reminded him. "And that's made me stronger than I would have been otherwise. But I also know I'll never build up as much arm muscle as the men I'm fighting. And you've always taught me to fight with every tool at my disposal. So, if I can get lighter weapons and armor that keep me from shaking with fatigue and making a mistake at the end of a battle, I'm going to use them." She lifted her head defiantly and glanced sideways at him.

Wyldon slowly pulled his thoughtful frown into a half-smile. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted. He reached over and set a hand on her shoulder in a rare display of concern. "But I believe I can find the merit in any project that improves your chances of survival."

MMMM

Numair did indeed have the formula drawn up neatly for her on a sheet of parchment and Selena hurried with it to the smithy, hoping to arrive during the noon-time lull. She had no such luck, the place was crowded with knights and riders carrying broken weapons. The head smith waved her away with orders to "see my assistant Jeck—he's the sharpest of the lot" as soon as she started to explain herself.

Jeck was about twenty, tall and blue-eyed, and he was bent over a forge doing intricate detail work on the blade of a dagger. Selena was so fascinated by the process that she waited for him to finish and set the weapon aside before speaking.

"Excuse me," she said finally.

He turned calmly and blinked at her carefully and gave a short bow. "What can I do for you lady-squire?"

"I'm Selena," she told him, extending a hand.

"And you aren't the bowing and scraping sort," Jeck said, smiling as he shook her hand.

His grip was firm and comfortable and Selena felt herself smiling back. "No, I'm more the collaborating type," she told him. "Master Salmalin and I would like your help with an experiment."

Jeck raised his eyebrows and nodded for her to continue as he made a few adjustments to the forge's fire.

Selena explained their idea to Jeck as he worked, passing him the formula when she'd finished.

He read it quickly with wide-eyes and a rapidly spreading grin. "This'll work," he said. "It might take a bit of tinkering—but therein lies the fun."

"Do you think you could make an ax-head with it?"

Jeck nodded thoughtfully. "You'll want it extra sharp, since you won't have as much weight behind each swing."

"Yes, exactly—thank you." Selena smiled again. It was good to have someone knowledgeable and enthusiastic doing the crafting. "When should I come to pick it up?"

"Unfortunately, we're rather busy at the moment." Jeck rolled his eyes at the crowd of knights. "But this is much more interesting." Jeck sighed thoughtfully. "I can have the whole battle-ax done in a few days. I'll bring it to you as soon as it's ready."

"Thanks. You don't have to—"

He shrugged. "I'll need a break from the noise and the stink by then."

MMMM

Vina wrinkled her nose. "What's that—"

"Smell." Rissa twitched her own nose at her twin. "You or your horse maybe." She pretended to cower behind one arm as Vina glared at her.

"And I thought girls were supposed to mature faster," Dalton muttered to Penelope as they followed their squires, who were now sticking their tongues out at one another, through a patch of woods.

"Well look at the company we—" Vina screamed suddenly as what appeared to be a giant fireball sped out of the trees, engulfing all four of them.

Dalton had just enough time before it hit to glance at Penelope and to think, _well, this is it then. _

MMMM

He found himself sprawled awkwardly across what appeared to be a stretch of tree roots. Though the one beneath his left arm was rather larger and softer and warmer than the others. And it was breathing.

Dalton ran his hand—which strangely, and thankfully, had not been incinerated—over the surface, tracing the contours of a very familiar face, neck, and collarbone.

"Penelope," he breathed, opening his eyes.

"Mmmerph," she answered.

He realized he still had his fingers over her lips and traced the outline of her ear instead.

"We can't be dead," she muttered.

"Good to know." Dalton wasn't entirely sure he believed her.

"I have a very painful crick in neck and I feel like I've been trampled by one of Lord Raoul's chargers."

"I vaguely recall trying not to land on top of you when the horses threw us," Dalton told her. "I'm not sure discomfort proves anything though."

Penelope rolled over so that she was resting on his chest and kissed him thoroughly.

"Point taken," he muttered as they helped each other up. "We are very much alive."

"And in a rather embarrassing situation." Penelope shook her head. "I can't believe we both lost our horses and our squires."

"They can't be too far, though," Dalton said. "We're still right beside the path and the light hasn't changed." He sighed. "Which do you want to track down?"

"Horses," Penelope muttered. "The hoof prints lead towards the creek—they're probably more sensible than any of us."

"Right. I'll find the squires—assuming they're not piles of ash—and then we'll all try to piece together whatever is is that's just—"

"Complicated our return to Corus," Penelope finished.

Dalton nodded and they kissed quickly before separating to go about their chosen tasks.

Dalton immediately began to suspect he'd suffered a head injury when he found Rissa and Vina.

"Penelope!" he shouted and was relieved to her a distant call indicating that his wife was on her way.

Their squires were chatting happily with a purple-eyed black cat. A strangely familiar purple-eyed black cat.

"Are you Faithful?" he murmured.

The cat twitched his tail and turned to regard Dalton. "I am always faithful, though I'd prefer to be called Frolic this time around if it's not too much trouble."

"I suppose not," Dalton said, through gritted teeth.

"You're a dog person aren't you?"

Fortunately Penelope returned at that moment, leading all four horses, and saved Dalton from replying.

Suddenly, Frolic pounced, landing just before Penelope's feet and catching what looked like a rat in his mouth. He shook the creature, snapping its neck, and it vanished from his teeth in a puff of smoke.

Penelope laid a hand on her horse's neck to keep him from spooking. "What was that?" she asked in what Dalton recognized as her dangerous-calm voice.

Frolic swished his tail dramatically and settled back on his haunches. "That was a fire-wraith—an infantile offspring of the creature that would have incinerated all four of you had I not intervened."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Rissa said, stretching out a hand to scratch beneath his chin.

The cat closed his eyes in a moment's pleasant distraction.

"Of course," Frolic added, opening his eyes again, "you're going to need to kill its father if you want to prevent the destruction of the Tortallan countryside." He licked one paw matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Rissa said, rather enthusiastically.

"Us?" Vina asked. "Why?"

"When did it get here?" Penelope demanded.

"Yes, you, because it is hoped that you'll be successful, and it's always been here—it's only just finally woken after prolonged exposure to the Dominion Jewel and the Immortals." Frolic stood. "Or did you mean me—I've technically only just arrived for a temporary visit, though I've been watching you for years." He sprang onto her shoulder and settled himself next to her ear. "At least you aren't unreasonably tall."

_Of course,_ Penelope thought to herself, _a cat would be able to talk faster than most of us think. _

_Okay, so I didn't invite Faithful/Frolic, he just wandered onto my Word document. But I've learned through painful life experience not to argue with cats. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the chapter and I'll have another up for you as soon as possible. My goal is to finish the entire story by Thanksgiving—erm, maybe Christmas. I'll be sad to say goodbye to these characters, but I'm anticipating lots of excitement and fluff before we finish. So, I hope you've enjoyed and I apologize for the longish author note and I'd like to remind you how wonderful your reviews are and wish you a great weekend (what's left of it, anyway). _


	13. Instinct

_Hello again and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter_. _This episode immediately follows the previous one, in which Penelope and Dalton learned about the fire-wraith and Selena began experimenting with lightweight armor. If you aren't aware that the location and certain characters contained herein belong to Tamora Pierce you may want to consider consulting a medical professional regarding short-term memory loss (or perhaps it's merely an indication that you really need more sleep). _

"Lady Selena!"

Selena finished locking the shed used to store the pages' spare practice equipment and turned around to find Jeck hurrying towards her.

"No, really, it's just Selena," she said, trying to angle her head so she could see what he held behind his back.

He grinned. "Very well then, Just Selena. I have a small trifle for you." He gave a rather mocking flourish and presented her with a small battle-ax.

"Oh," she breathed as she examined it—it was razor sharp and the weight of it fit perfectly in her hand and the ax-head was decorated, etched with stars and a crescent moon—"I didn't expect anything so…"

"Master Salmalin's formula proved astonishingly easy to work with it. It would have been a crime to leave the blade blank and I thought this would suit you." Jeck shrugged nonchalantly. "My carpenter friend carved the grip," he said, business-like once more, "I can have him adjust it if you'd prefer…"

"No. This is perfect." Selena hefted the ax once more and then threw it so that it landed, quivering, in the center of a target. "See?"

Jeck grinned and retrieved the ax for her. " I bet you do that every time though."

"Only when I want to prove something." Selena smiled. _Is what flirting feels like, _she wondered and then quickly swallowed the thought. "Do you have time to try something else—a sword or some plate-mail?"

Jeck shook his head—in amusement rather than disagreement. "Master Henric wishes he'd taken on the job himself. We both know this new material is going to make my career—and my reputation. I have time to make everything you wish—"

Selena drew breath to protest that she didn't have the coin, but Jeck stopped her.

"—particularly since Master Salmalin tells me that Lady Alanna has insisted upon financing the experiments. Actually according to the gossip around the smithy, Wyldon wanted to help pay but she sent a message forbidding him to try."

"Oh," Selena muttered. "That's why he was so out-of-sorts the other afternoon."

"Admittedly, I'm tempted just to let both of them pay me," Jeck confessed jovially.

She laughed. "What should we try next then?"

"My lady doesn't have a particular request?"

Selena would have protested the title if his tone hadn't been full of good-natured teasing. It was his way of showing gratitude for the autonomy and equality she'd granted him without saying something that would embarrass both of them.

"Something sharp and shiny," she said, smiling.

Jeck chuckled and they spent the next hour wandering the grounds as they discussed various projects and plans, eventually settling on a schedule for producing an entire ensemble and deciding to try a sword next. They only parted when they reached the entrance to the squires' wing.

"I'll need your arm," he said, lifting her hand so that he could measure her right arm. When he had finished, he kissed her fingers, his lips just brushing her middle knuckles.

Their eyes met and Selena's breath caught quietly in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Selena, I should not have been so bold." Jeck took a quick step backwards. "I should be going."

"I—no—yes, Wyldon will be expecting me," Selena stammered quickly. "When will—"

"I'll bring you your weapon tomorrow," Jeck said gently. And they smiled hesitantly at each other before turning and fleeing.

_Wyldon would be shocked, _Selena thought as soon as she had reached the privacy of her own room, _though I think Penelope might approve. _

MMMM

Alanna kissed George, saddled her horse, and left for Corus shortly after she'd used a speaking spell to share her instructions with Numair. She was keen to see the new armor for herself—she wasn't getting any younger, after all, and she was paying for the experiments—and if she traveled lightly and quickly she could probably catch up with Penelope and Dalton. And her instincts—along with a certain pendant—were whispering that she should do so.

George watched her ride away and glowered at the report he was decoding before resolving to follow her as soon as he'd finished with it.

MMMM

"You're sure there isn't some way we could send a message to warn the king about these…monsters?" Dalton asked the cat, who was seated between Rissa and Vina on a log.

Frolic blinked at him across the fire. _None of you has any magical Gift. The message would have to be transported physically. _He licked a paw and used it to wipe the side of his face. _But only one of the fire-wraiths is currently large enough to hold the title monster—the others are mere pests._

"But isn't _the_ monster—" Rissa began.

"—the one between us and Corus?" Vina finished.

Frolic didn't seem at all confused by the chorus of voices on either side. He nodded. _He is the only one who can generate sweeps of flame merely by loitering in one place and thinking vindictive thoughts. _

"So how do we kill him?" Penelope muttered, just as Dalton said, "so this afternoon's—erm—wasn't deliberate?"

_If it had been a deliberate attack, I wouldn't have been able to protect you from harm. _Frolic draped himself across the twins' laps. _I suggest you avoid an outright onslaught. _He closed his eyes as though settling down for a long nap.

Penelope let out an exasperated sigh, wondering how Alanna had kept herself from throwing this cat—presuming Dalton was right about it being the same cat—off a tall tower. _He'd probably have landed on his feet, _she realized, smiling slightly.

"So how do we kill him?" she repeated.

Frolic opened his eyes and lifted his head off of Rissa's knee. _Well, he obviously can't be burned to death—and drowning and strangulation present certain technical obstacles. So that leaves impalement, disembowelment, and decapitation. _Frolic sighed sadly. _And that was as much help as I'm allowed to give. _He blinked once at Penelope and Dalton before lowering his head again, apparently to sleep.

Penelope swallowed, trying not to remember what she'd seen in the Chamber. "I guess we'll be improvising then."

Dalton nodded. "And preferably avoiding direct bodily contact with the thing so as not to be burned." He emphasized the last few words for the twins' benefit. Then he wrapped his fingers over Penelope's knee. "I think it can wait until tomorrow, however, since Frolic didn't mention it glowing in the dark. I'm not sure how we're going to track the thing though."

"Burnt twigs," the twins chorused.

"It's leaving singe marks," Rissa explained.

"And, then there's its smell," Vina added.

MMMM

True to his word, Jeck brought Selena the sword as soon as it was ready, meeting her just outside the stables (where she'd been grooming her horse after a much-needed "head-clearing" afternoon ride). Selena blushed slightly at the sight of him but was soon distracted by the scabbard he held out to her.

The scabbard was plain unadorned leather, but the sword inside it was another matter entirely. It was deadly and beautiful—decorated again with moon and stars—and she felt graceful simply holding it. She made a few experimental passes, moving so lightly she might have been dancing.

"Thanks, Jeck," she whispered. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," Jeck murmured. He reached out and gently plucked a stray strand of hair from her head. When he dropped it on the blade it split neatly in two.

"Tested and true," Selena said, trying to still her hammering heart.

"Of course," Jeck said gripping her elbow, "I made her for you." He seemed to remember himself suddenly and released her arm as though it had burned him. "I'm sorry, you're so easy to talk to I forget that you're…above my station."

"Jeck," she said slowly, lowering the blade so that she could step closer to him.

His eyes widened when they met hers.

_This is going to be confusing and complicated, _she realized, _and definitely worth it. _

"Jeck," she repeated. "I'm not like the other nobleborn girls. And I'm not like other—I'm obviously a little different from the other squires. Really, I'm just myself—and that's all I want to be, especially because I like the way you treat her when we stop remembering what everyone else expects us to be. So I think…" But by then she had run out of words, so she took another step forwards and kissed him lightly.

"Oh," he said shakily, "in that case." He brushed his lips across her forehead and pulled her into his arms and this time he kissed her. "This won't be easy," he muttered when they broke apart.

"I know. Nothing in my life is." Selena stepped back just far enough to put her sword back in its scabbard and set it on a convenient bale of straw.

"I think you must be braver than 'everyone else' suspects," he said quietly, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb.

She shook her head slowly and stepped close enough to press her forehead to his lips. "I'm just stubborn about the things I want," she mumbled.

"Good," Jeck said, wrapping his arms around her once more. They stood quietly for a long time, both still trembling with surprise. "So," he said finally, "about your helm—it's—"

Selena lifted her head suddenly. "This isn't just a…transaction, you know, I—"

Jeck covered her lips with his fingers and continued. "It will take me a week to finish and I don't want to wait that long to see you. So would you like to stop by the forge and watch me work on it this afternoon—or do you not want to be seen with—"

"I'd love to," Selena said quickly.

MMMM

It was late afternoon by the time they found the fire-wraith and by then they were only seven miles or so from Corus. The fire-wraith was scurrying remarkably quickly for a creature the size of a small cottage and the horses absolutely refused to go anywhere near it.

_Very sensible of them, _Frolic remarked, _since it's hot enough to burn whatever touches it. _

Rissa swallowed. "I guess we'll have to do it—"

"On foot," Vina finished. "Pity." Her voice was bold but she let out a shaky sigh when he'd finished and Dalton noticed her legs trembling as they dismounted. She was just as brave as her sister but better at recognizing danger.

"I think we'd best go without armor," Dalton said calmly

"I suppose we should be glad it doesn't have scales," Penelope muttered as she secured her sword, though she wasn't really in the mood to feel grateful for anything at the moment. She turned and eyed the monster through the trees. "I'd the say the chest is the most vulnerable point."

Frolic twitched his tail approving. _They do have rather large hearts and very thin ribcages. _

Dalton nodded. "Vina and I will take the left side then. And you and Rissa can take the right." He would have liked to have Penelope at his side but it wouldn't be right to leave the two squires on their own. And, of the twins, Vina was the one who occasionally seemed to seek masculine protection—not a habit he generally wanted to encourage, but he thought that in this case she might benefit more from his presence than the reckless Rissa.

Penelope nodded back and then put a finger to her lips as the wraith raised its head and sniffed the air.

_You'll have to hurry, _Frolic warned. _I'll signal you once both sides are in position. _

Dalton tapped Vina's shoulder and motioned for her to follow him. They began circling around the wraith's back end, while Rissa and Penelope took off in the other direction. Dalton's boot broke a branch a loudly and the wraith raised his head suddenly and spotted them. And then they had no more time for surprise.

Frolic gave a bloodcurdling yowl and they all moved in for the kill.

Dalton thrust his sword as high as he could into the wraith's chest and Vina immediately followed suit. He could tell from the grunts at the creature's other side that Rissa and Penelope had done the same. The wraith slumped slightly and Rissa gave a triumphant little shriek.

Dalton was just beginning to think they might have a chance at defeating the thing when it began to shake and emit smoke until it was difficult to breath and see clearly. Though he could still see the molten blood dribbling down the wraith's sides and he felt the drop that landed on his shoulder, scalding him through his clothes.

His sword hilt grew so warm that it was painful to hold. And he knew from the way Vina moaned and bit her lip that hers was doing the same. _We're all going to burn up before it dies, _he realized. And he could think of only one way to keep that from happening.

Dalton plunged his sword further into the thing's chest, flinching as he felt the pulse of its heart against his blade. Then he released his sword and grabbed the dagger at his belt, dashing a few steps forward to slit its throat. He was too distracted by the burn of the wraith's blood on his arm to notice the wraith's great fore-claw until it came slashing across his chest. Fortunately, Vina did notice and she launched herself at the wraith's foreleg just in time to soften the blow and keep it from slicing Dalton in two. And by then the wraith was already collapsing.

Dalton just had time to shout a warning and throw himself clear before the monster went up in flames and he slid into unconsciousness.

MMMM

"Well, I think we might all need new weapons," Rissa said, surprised that she still had a voice to speak with. She couldn't even see Vina and Dalton yet through all the smoke.

"Ours are melted," Vina agreed faintly as she stepped around the burning mass.

"Get clear," Penelope shouted. "The leaves are catching." She shoved Rissa forwards impatiently. It was only when Rissa saw Penelope dragging Dalton away from the rapidly spreading flames that she realized he'd been injured. Even then she couldn't believe that Penelope was able to move him so far on her own.

But Penelope didn't even seem to notice that he was heavier than she was. Maybe because she was distracted by the horrible burns on his arms and the deep gash across his chest. "I'm not letting you leave me like this," she muttered fiercely, kneeling by his side.

Moments later, Frolic appeared, leading their hesitant horses. And Penelope forced herself to her feet. She didn't have time for the luxury of worry if she wanted to keep Dalton alive and keep the entire forest—so full of dry leaves and pine needles—from burning down.

"You'll have to ride to Corus and get help," Penelope told the twins shakily. "It'll take a Rider group or a troop of the Own to put out this fire—maybe Numair. Stay together. And get Neal."

"What about…?" Rissa glanced at Dalton, still lying unconscious.

"That's why I need Neal." Penelope swallowed hard and watched the girls mount. "We'll be following you. But you need to go now."

Vina nodded and urged her horse away. Rissa followed at her heals. And Penelope ran to pull her horse over to Dalton. She was going to have to carry him in front of her as she rode. It would be exhausting and they wouldn't go fast, but there was no other way to move him. Of course, she'd have to lift him up into the saddle first, which wasn't going to be easy.

She found Frolic at Dalton's side, licking his cheek, which seemed to be miraculously improving his color. _You're lucky the Goddess is particularly fond of him, _Frolic informed her.

"He deserves her favor," Penelope whispered fiercely as she bent beside him.

Frolic stood on his hind legs and batted gently at Penelope's shoulder. _Of course he does. So do you, Lady Knight. I'm sorry I cannot stay with you longer. _Frolic pressed his nose quickly to her cheek. Then he trotted away and disappeared, leaving Penelope to hoist Dalton into the saddle and pull herself up behind him.

She'd only made it about a hundred feet before Alanna shouted her name.

Penelope turned in disbelief as the King's Champion galloped up, convinced she was delirious. She sobbed with relief when Alanna reached over to grab her arm.

"Where are the girls?"

"Riding for Corus." Penelope adjusted her awkward grip on Dalton's body, noticing for the first time the painful burns on her own hands and wrists. "I don't know if—"

Alanna reached over to examine Dalton with her Gift before Penelope could finish. Penelope found herself vowing to bring her horse treats every morning in thanks for standing so calmly next to Alanna's mount.

"I'd love to ask how you set half the trees on fire—" Alanna muttered.

"Fire wraith," Penelope interrupted. "Killed it. How did you get—"

"I was going to say it could wait till later," Alanna murmured soothingly. "I was headed for Corus anyway, but my intuition kept hurrying me along."

"Will you be able to stop the fire from—"

Alanna nodded grimly, watching as the flame rose. "I sent for Numair as soon as I saw it. I think I can keep it from spreading too much farther until help arrives."

Penelope realized this meant she wouldn't be able to help Dalton at the moment and knew Alanna hated the situation just as much as she did. "How is—"

"I can't make any promises," Alanna said, quietly, "but I think he'll live." She glanced back towards the forest fire, readying her violet Gift in her hands as she prepared to fight it. "Ride easy. Don't jostle him. Neal will know what to do."

_So, hope you enjoyed. Next installment will be posted soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	14. Integration

_Hello again and many thanks to everyone who reviewed! This episode takes place a few hours after the last, in which Selena met Jeck and Dalton slew the fire-wraith before passing out. Setting and (certain) characters belong to Tamora Pierce. The green balm migrated in from Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody mysteries (which I high recommend to anyone who likes strong and witty female protagonists and/or crush-worthy male characters and/or pyramids and mummies and/or historical fiction and/or archaeology and espionage—which is probably all of you). Enjoy!_

"It's all a matter of time now," Neal said. He turned to Penelope, who was waiting anxiously at the foot of Dalton's cot in the infirmary. Neal didn't think he'd ever seen her standing quite so motionlessly. "He'll wake when he's ready, but—with these burns—the best thing for him is to sleep until then."

Penelope nodded and lowered herself onto the edge of Dalton's cot. "Thanks," she whispered.

"I'd like to take all the credit," Neal said, reaching out to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear as though she were a small child. "But I rather suspect there was a bit of divine intervention."

"Frolic," Penelope breathed.

Neal blinked at her.

"Never mind," Penelope muttered. "Do you know how long he's going to…"

Neal shook his head. "You're welcome to stay as long as it takes." He grabbed a clean cloth, wet it, and threw it to her. "So long as you wipe all the grime off your face—or take a real bath if you want to stretch out beside him."

Penelope flinched involuntarily as the cloth hit her burned and blistered hands. They actually hurt now that Dalton was safe in the infirmary. So did the scalded spots on her neck and shoulders.

Neal gave an exasperated sigh and strode over to inspect the damage. "Why didn't you say something?"

"You were busy," Penelope muttered. She shrugged out of her tunic. "And I certainly didn't want to distract you," she added, a bit of familiar cheekiness creeping back into her tone.

"So you carried him all the way back like this, getting all kinds of dirt in…" Neal shook his head and wrapped his hands around hers, healing them. "Not that you really had much choice in the matter," he added gently.

"The twins are probably just as bad." Penelope flexed her fingers; they were still painful, but at least she could move them. She hadn't been burned nearly as badly as Dalton had. "There's more on my shoulders." She fell into their old habit for dealing with "improperly located injuries"—the name had come when they drank rather more ale than was advisable after a long fight with a particularly vicious centaur—from her squire days, unbuttoning her shirt and turning around before she pulled it away from her shoulders.

Neal winced for her as he set his fingers on the burns. It was such a familiar sound that Penelope almost imagined she was sixteen again and they recovering from a violent Immortal encounter in some uncomfortable inn. "Rissa wasn't nearly as bad actually," Neal said quietly.

"Oh." Penelope thought there was something rather surreal about discussing her own squires. She wondered guiltily where they were at the moment.

"You sent them ahead, remember?" Neal said as though he expected her to have forgotten. "I healed them just before riding out to meet you." He sighed as he finished the last burn on her shoulder. "Vina was worse though—she ought to still be here, really—she had a nasty burn across her cheek."

Penelope buttoned up her shirt and thought she vaguely remembered the burn, but the twins arrived in person—as though magically summoned by their names—before she could mention it. Vina's cheek and chin were smeared with a mysterious green goop, but she smiled broadly at the sight of Penelope. And then both squires pulled Penelope into a tight hug—one that would have been quite painful if Neal hadn't just seen to the burns on her shoulders.

"Thank you both for…" But then Penelope ran out of words for telling them how grateful and proud she was. "…already being as brave as the knights you're going to be," Penelope finished as they broke apart, all a little tearstained. Neal's eyes were a little watery when he met Penelope's gaze.

"Is Dalton—" Vina began.

"He'll be all right," Neal said, grabbing Vina's shoulders and forcing her to sit on the edge of an empty cot. "But you're risking a complication running around like this. At least try to rest."

Vina sighed. "But why doesn't Rissa have—"

"Because she's got the thoroughly boring chore of fetching me a set of clean clothes," Penelope announced, exchanging winks with Rissa.

Rissa rolled her eyes at her twin and trotted away.

Rissa was met at the door by Daine and Numair, who were both ashen-faced and leaning so heavily on one another it was impossible to tell who was supporting whom. Penelope smiled slightly at the sight of them, another reminder that sometimes love was stronger than gravity.

"Thought you'd want to know the worst is over," Numair said wearily. "We got the blaze out."

"With minimal damage to the area wildlife," Daine added, mustering a small smile.

"Do you have any injuries that need tending?" Neal asked, though he was tired enough that he rather hoped they didn't.

"Nothing a little rest won't fix," Numair answered. "And I'll be more likely to get without my feet spilling off the bed." He and Daine nodded good-naturedly and then hobbled from the room.

"By 'a little rest'," Neal explained. "He means a steaming bath, a large meal, and fifteen hours or so of sleep."

"And here I thought he was just more powerful than the rest of us," Penelope grumbled as she slipped behind the screens at the end of the infirmary for her own bath.

MMMM

Dalton woke at an ungodly early hour the next morning and found Penelope curled carefully against his (relatively) uninjured side. She sensed the change in his breathing and lifted her head to blink sleepily down at him.

"So," he murmured. "Does this mean I'm still alive then?"

Penelope smiled. "Unless I am very much mistaken."

"Care to prove it?"

Penelope laughed softly and lowered her lips gently to his.

"Will that do it?" Penelope settled again on the cot, careful not to jostle him.

"I believe that was definitive."

And then they both laughed, which Dalton found so painful that he cursed loudly, waking Neal and the twins without realizing it.

"I really couldn't be sure after the thing took its swipe at me," he muttered. "How did—"

"I didn't see everything that happened on your side," Penelope said.

"But I did," Vina offered.

"Well then," Neal muttered, "since we're all awake—" he conjured a light with his Gift—"I'm going to re-bandage his injuries while you piece together your charming little battle."

It only took a few minutes for Penelope and the squires to explain how they'd escaped. Neal finished just as they ran out of words.

"Well Vina," Dalton said finally, "I think you saved my life."

"Feel free to return the favor at an opportune moment," Vina told him.

"An inopportune moment, more like," Rissa said.

He fell asleep again soon afterwards, and so did Penelope at his side. He would have liked to wrap his arms around her, but they hurt too much to move. Instead they pressed their faces close together, so that with each breath they seemed to share a wordless whisper.

MMMM

Lord Wyldon woke them late the next morning with a rather loud and disapproving cough. Penelope automatically sprang out of bed and pulled her hands behind her back, ignoring her suddenly growling stomach as Wyldon began to speak.

"The king requires your presence at a brief meeting to assess the threat of these newly discovered fire-wraiths," Wyldon explained with just a note of amusement in his voice (which might have been due to the faces Vina was pulling as Neal reapplied the bright green balm to her face). "I've been sent to fetch you and your squires—and Sir Dalton if he is able to walk."

"You've been sent to fetch us?" Penelope thought that sounded more like a task for Selena.

"I volunteered," Wyldon said shortly. "Lady Alanna isn't in the best of tempers this morning." He glanced questioningly at Dalton.

"My legs are fine," Dalton reminded all of them. "Regrettably my fingers aren't up to tackling bootlaces."

"I wouldn't worry about appearing barefoot," Wyldon muttered in a strained way. "It's one of those 'sitting-room gatherings'."

"Everyone will be looking at my face anyway," Vina said cheerfully.

MMMM

The meeting was a decidedly informal one. George and Alanna reclined at opposite ends of a sofa, their feet tangled between them. The king and queen occupied two faded armchairs beside the fireplace and they both wore cozy wool slippers. Daine sat on another sofa with her head resting against Numair's arm.

Wyldon glanced pointedly at Selena when they arrived, and she vacated his armchair, perching herself on his foot stool instead. Vina and Rissa stood in the doorway, blinking nervously for several seconds, but Penelope and Dalton sped immediately to the scones and tea waiting on a table at the center of the room. They hadn't eaten since the previous morning and they knew by now not to stand on ceremony.

"Tell us everything you remember," the king said urgently as soon as they had filled their mouths. Penelope and Dalton exchanged alarmed glances; there was not standing on ceremony and then there was spewing crumbs across the king's slippers.

"Once you've finished chewing and swallowing," Thayet amended, scowling at her husband. "Really, Jon, you're going to make somebody choke someday."

Of course, Penelope did come rather close to choking when she tried to stifle her laugh at this last remark. But she did eventually swallow and then she and Rissa and Vina and Dalton explained what had happened, all of them eating and talking by turns.

The king stopped Vina midway through her description of Frolic.

"Alanna, you don't think—"

"No, Jon," she said quietly. "I know." She shook her head thoughtfully. "There's only one that would address anyone but Daine." She turned thoughtfully to the Wildmage. "I'm rather surprised conversing with cats hasn't made you more cynical."

Daine shrugged. "I guess I balance myself out by talking to idealistic dogs." She smiled and gestured for Vina to continue

Alanna nodded as Penelope finished describing her last encounter with Frolic. "Typical," she muttered fondly, and Penelope wasn't sure whether she was describing the cat or the Goddess.

They were all silent for a moment before Wyldon asked about the possible threat from young fire-wraiths.

"I think there are a few left," Dalton said.

Daine nodded. "A few of the foxes in the woods have been complaining about foul smelling rodents."

"Frolic didn't seem to think they were a huge threat though," Penelope said. "We should be able to—"

"You should be able to rest," Thayet said firmly. "I'm sending a Rider group out to deal with them."

Penelope instinctively drew breath to protest, but then she glanced at Dalton, who was still grey with exhaustion, and at the twins, whose eyes seemed to have aged overnight. She swallowed and smiled faintly at the queen.

"And," the king added, "you'll be receiving a substantial purse for effectively dispatching the first."

The meeting broke apart soon afterwards and Alanna accompanied Penelope and Dalton to their room, listening to their descriptions of Frolic and telling them about some of Faithful's more amusing escapades.

"Think carefully before having children," she told them when they reached their door. "I can only imagine what _she _might plan for them."

MMMM

After a blissfully boring week of eating, sleeping, reading, riding with the twins, and wandering the gardens with Dalton, Penelope found herself fully recovered and missing her sword terribly. By the afternoon, she was miserably restless. She resolved to take Alanna's advice and visit the smithy to see about getting a new lightweight sword fashioned for herself.

She was rather surprised to find that Selena was already there, standing between the arms of the assistant smith as he helped her manipulate tongs and hammer. Penelope watched as they dropped the tools in cold water and the smith murmured something in Selena's ear, his lips just brushing her hair. She then resolved to drag Selena off for a bit of gossip—she'd barely seen her over the past week and now she thought she knew why—as soon as she was finished.

Selena turned and waved Penelope over, introducing her to Jeck.

"Of course," Jeck said, when Penelope had explained what she wanted. Then he glanced quickly at Selena. "You don't mind if I interrupt—"

"My armor can wait," Selena told him smiling. "Our lovely lady knight is liable to tear down the palace stone by stone if she goes much longer without a sword."

MMMM

"So," Penelope said as she poured tea for Selena, "it would appear that somebody has found someone."

Selena feigned ignorance as she settled on the clothes chest Penelope and Dalton used as a spare seat.

"You and Jeck," Penelope insisted, stirring a bit of sugar into her tea.

Selena nodded.

Penelope snorted with frustration and amusement, determined to pry some answers from her friend. "Has he kissed you yet? How long have you—"

"I kissed him just over a week ago," Selena said quietly.

"Oh," said Penelope. "Good for you."

Dalton stuck his head in the door. "Do you want me to pretend I didn't hear that last bit and go massacre Neal's chess set again or can I come in?"

"Come in, by all means," Selena said wickedly, "I was just confessing the details of our sordid affair to your wife."

Penelope sprayed a mouthful of tea across the table and Dalton collapsed on the edge of the bed, breathless with laughter. But Selena still hadn't killed her own tension.

"You don't think badly of me?" Selena asked quickly. "I know Jeck isn't noble—"

"I think you both have excellent taste," Penelope said quickly. "So he's a smith—he's good at what he does and you're both happy. Lots of squires sleep with kitchen maids and nobody—"

"It's different for them," Selena muttered, blushing.

"It shouldn't be," Penelope said.

"No," Dalton agreed. "But she's right. Certain people will hold her to a different standard." He poured himself a mug of tea. "That might not be so bad though—if you can endure the gossip. Alanna got away with marrying a criminal."

"Does Mindelan know?" Penelope asked.

Selena shook her head. "Wyldon doesn't either. He's going to kill me."

"I wouldn't worry," Dalton said assured her. "I should think he's much more likely to kill Jeck."

MMMM

Penelope found Jeck alone when she went to pick up her sword the next afternoon. It was quite possibly the loveliest weapon she'd ever held—her initials were etched elegantly on the blade—but she didn't let it distract her from her purpose.

"About Selena," Penelope said.

Jeck's hands twitched.

"I haven't seen her this light-hearted in years," Penelope said, and Jeck visibly relaxed. "And I'm quite prepared to believe that you deserve her affection." Penelope smiled. "That being said, Selena is not to be trifled with. I won't tolerate it and there would be consequences." She glanced meaningfully at her new sword.

Jeck nodded. "I know exactly how sharp that blade is and I have no intentioned of earning its wrath."

"Good." Penelope shook his hand. "A word of advice then. Watch out for Wyldon. But don't worry about him too much. His bark is worse than his bite. And he's going to need a new dagger soon."

"You're not suggesting that I bribe Lord Wyldon?" Jeck tilted his head mischievously.

Penelope quirked her chin sideways. "The only thing you need to learn about nobles, Jeck, is the difference between bribery and persuasion."

_So, hope you enjoyed. I couldn't leave Dalton hanging for long (I was worried Penelope would hunt me down even if my lovely reviewers didn't) but I seem to have left Selena and Jeck on thin ice. I promise you'll see more of them (and of Kel!) in the next installment. Thanks for reading and reviewing! _


	15. Intensity

_Hello again! Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers and apologies for the delay in updating—I'm currently beaming out a signal from the black hole of midterms. This episode takes place a few weeks after the previous one, in which Penelope and Dalton recovered from their battle and met Jeck. The location and certain characters belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

"The writing hurts the old injury on your wrist," Selena murmured. It wasn't a question; she'd spent the last half-hour watching him bite his lip and glare at the scars on his forearm.

Wyldon looked up at her from his last letter. "Mindelan has three young children. However much she would like to, she doesn't have time to write reports to all of the parents." He laid down the quill and rubbed his wrist—a rare show of weakness. "The ache is worst when the weather changes; it will pass in a day or two."

"Tomorrow evening," Selena said quickly, "you can dictate and I will write."

Wyldon blinked at her. "If you grow any more assertive, we shall be in danger of forgetting which of us is the knight and which the squire." He didn't smile but there was a rumble of hidden amusement and approval in his voice.

"I shall endeavor to avoid such confusion, sir," Selena said, getting to her feet and starting for the door.

"A moment, Selena," Wyldon called softly.

She spun around, suddenly afraid they were about to have the conversation she'd been dreading for weeks.

But Wyldon only smiled tiredly at her and held up a dagger with a broken tip. "While I am relying on you for favors, I might as well ask you to see about getting a new blade forged for me. You seem to have made some useful contacts at the smithy during the course of your experiments."

MMMM

Selena passed along Wyldon's request when she met Jeck the next afternoon. He smiled and passed her a sturdy, perfectly-balanced blade. She added the scabbard to her own belt to carry it and then raised her eyebrows at Jeck.

"I'm hoping to begin making a good impression before I actually meet him," Jeck said, throwing off his apron as they left the forge to walk around some of the back pastures. "I have a feeling I'll need it."

Selena shook her as she fell comfortably into step beside him. "I'm the one he'll be angry with."

"Would you like me to tell him?" Jeck wrapped his fingers around her elbow. "I'll find—

Selena spun and planted a swift kiss on his lips. "No, it's very good—or possibly recklessly foolish of you to offer—but then he'd be furious with me for not telling him myself." She couldn't quite explain why, but she was intent on facing Wyldon herself. It was just a matter of finding the courage.

They set off along the fence again.

"If my lady"—he paused long enough to let Selena pretend to pout at him, this was a joke between them now—"wishes to test the limits of Lord Wyldon's blissful ignorance"—he kissed her just long enough to remind her of other kinds of bliss—"then we shall carry on as we have been." There was just a just a touch of uncertainty in his voice as he finished.

Selena laced her fingers through his, marveling at how easily they fit together. "And perhaps I shall begin making hints. He is getting on in his years, but he can handle change if it sneaks up on him so that he doesn't realize he's adjusting." She set her head on Jeck's shoulder and sighed happily. "He really wouldn't forgive me for proving Queenscove's dire predictions of heart attack and apoplexy correct."

MMMM

"You are later than I expected you," Wyldon remarked when Selena appeared in his doorway.

"I am precisely on time, sir," Selena reminded him, keenly aware that her face was flushed both from the run to his study and from Jeck's goodnight kiss. The bell began tolling as though to prove her point.

"I've grown accustomed to your arriving early," Wyldon said calmly, shifting his chair to make room for Selena at her desk.

Selena wasn't sure how to reply to this so she shrugged and offered Wyldon his new dagger before sitting down beside him and readying a sheaf of parchment. "I hope that this at least meets your standards of punctuality."

"I believe this blade is finer than my old one," Wyldon said. "Thank you, Selena."

"I didn't forge it."

"Ever modest," he muttered.

"Only honest, my lord, and following your example," Selena murmured, reaching for a quill.

Wyldon's chin seemed to twitch with amusement before he cleared his throat. "We'll begin with Connor's father," he said and began dictating.

He spoke slowly, gathering his thoughts together as he went, but he was obviously drawing on years of experience composing such letters. And within an hour or so, they had completed six letters—all they'd meant to finish that evening.

Selena flexed her fingers thoughtfully, wishing she could also stretch away the awkward silence that had fallen after Wyldon's last dictation. But she wasn't sure what to say to Wyldon because Jeck was what she most wanted to talk about and what she least wanted to tell Wyldon about. She glanced up and found him watching her expectantly, so she stood and bid him good evening.

"There is something you aren't telling me," he said quietly.

Selena nodded. There wasn't any point in denying it. "I'm sorry," she added. _So much for hints,_ she thought.

"I cannot offer you advice on a matter if I don't know about it," he said, somewhat impatiently. "I wish you would just share whatev—"

But Selena interrupted him before he could finish. "I—if I—you wouldn't approve of hi—"She forced her eyes away from Wyldon's new dagger before she could give herself away and resolved to be halfway honest—she owed Wyldon that much at least. "Yes, of _him._" Then she turned and hurried down the corridor, feeling cowardly enough to be glad that he didn't call her back.

MMMM

"And then she left," Wyldon finished quietly, gazing down at Wilda, who had just fallen asleep in his arms. "I don't see why she won't—do you know who he is?"

Kel had a fairly good idea who Selena's mysterious suitor was—she'd seen Selena rush from the practice courts towards the smithy a few times and she'd once spotted Jeck planting a quick kiss on Selena's cheek as he delivered a sample of chain mail—but she wasn't entirely sure it would be prudent to interfere in Wyldon's relationship with his squire. Especially since he seemed to be asking her for advice, which Kel meant that Kel felt obligated to tell him he ought to wait for Selena to tell him herself. And she wasn't sure how to approach that task.

"Peregrine's asleep too," she murmured, resorting to distraction. "Do you mind carrying Wilda to bed?"

Neal and Dom lifted their heads from their chess game to smirk briefly at her as she and Wyldon carried the babies to the next room.

Kel blinked blankly at them, concealing her sudden devious inspiration. Wyldon watched her settle her children in their cradle with a curiously tender expression and followed her patiently back to the sitting room. _If only he were more like Raoul, _Kel thought, _he managed this sort of thing so kindly with me_. So had Neal with Penelope, but Kel had trouble wishing that Wyldon were more like Neal. It was undoubtedly a dangerous thought.

"The trouble," Wyldon grumbled quietly, "is that I haven't a clue who it is that she's convinced I would disapprove of."

"I'm not sure what to tell you, sir," Kel said honestly, containing her glee with some difficulty as Neal's shoulders jerked in silent amusement. "I think," she added wickedly, "that Neal may have more experience in such matters."

Wyldon turned to appraise Neal. He seemed almost surprised not to find a cynical teenager scowling back at him.

"Who would you approve of, my lord?" Neal inquired lightly.

Wyldon turned opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again. He exhaled slowly and noisily through his nose.

"Can you be more specific, sir?" Neal ignored the warning elbow that Dom shoved into his ribs. "I'm afraid that doesn't help us eliminate any of the palace's male population."

Wyldon winced at the word "population".

"Though I can assure you, sir, that I am not…"

Wyldon's unblinking gaze had a rapid sobering effect and Neal swallowed hard. Wyldon sighed thoughtfully. "I suppose I have been rather…She might not have meant I would disapprove of her suitor so much as the fact that she has one, which isn't entirely inco—" He shook his head and fixed his gaze on Neal once more. "I presume, Queenscove, that you did not disapprove of Penelope's er, choice."

"Well, I was a witness at her wedding." Amongst other things that Neal thought it would be best not to mention to Wyldon. "But Penelope has always been—"

"A bit of an exceptional case," Dom filled in for him, smiling diplomatically.

"Indeed," Wyldon said. "And you were familiar with Dalton."

"Quite," Neal agreed. He stole a glance at Kel and found that she had pinched her lips together to keep from smiling. "Actually," he told Wyldon, "I imagine Lady Alanna would have a number of insights to share with you."

"Be serious, Queenscove."

"I spoke with the utmost sincerity, sir." Neal straightened his shoulders.

"Then perhaps you had better be smart, since it seems to help you think rationally."

"Very good, sir. Was smart a reference to my intelligence or my cheek?" Neal could see a vein throbbing on Wyldon's temple and resolved to resist all further future temptation to provocation. Assuming that Wyldon didn't kill him immediately, of course.

Dom seemed to sense that this was a possibility, because he turned quickly to Wyldon. "You'll find out before long anyway, sir, given the way gossip travels through this place."

Wyldon wasn't sure whether he found this notion reassuring or alarming.

MMMM

"He only wants to know because he cares," Penelope said.

"That's the problem," Selena muttered, firing another arrow at her target. "He really wants what he thinks is best for me." She sighed and fired again. "Which, unfortunately, is a completely chaste squirehood followed by an eventual marriage to a nobleborn knight." Selena fired again, missing the target completely.

"Not really much of an original thinker, is he?" Penelope muttered, adjusting her stance before she fired.

"It would never work. Aside from the fact that there aren't any unmarried Doms or Daltons running about, I wouldn't want to live with one." She sighed and grabbed another arrow, twirling it slowly between her fingers. "It would be too intense—too easy to start competing with him over everything or to wind up under the same command and—" she flinched, realizing what she'd just said and glanced worriedly at Penelope.

Penelope only shrugged and smiled. "Dalton and I are intense. It isn't always easy—but at least we're both intense. And we have had a few difficulties when we were under the same commander—largely because he was an idiot…But never mind." She gestured for Selena to continue.

"I love that Jeck knows all about weapons and fighting—he appreciates what I do. But I also love that when I'm with him I'm not worried about being the perfect knight or trying to match him at…" Selena shrugged and fired again, hitting the dead center of her target.

" I can see why you'd want to be with someone who wasn't locked in our crazy world," Penelope said.

"Yes," Selena said. "But will Wyldon?"

"Mindelan would probably point out that he doesn't have a chance of understanding something if you won't explain it to him." Penelope shrugged. "I'm too cynical to sound that optimistic, so I won't try. We have run out of arrows, though. You can't hide here all afternoon."

Selena blinked. "When did you grow up and become reasonable?"

Penelope scowled thoughtfully. "I think I must have done it my sleep, accidentally of course." She leaned her bow against the fence and moved to collect their arrows, calling over shoulders, "if it were me, though, I'd tell him before he found out from someone else."

MMMM

"Sir," Selena murmured from Wyldon's doorway. They'd seen each other at morning practice but hadn't actually spoken all day and she was suddenly dry-mouthed.

He lifted his head and beckoned for her to come in.

"I have something to tell you."

"So I presumed." He set down his quill.

Selena flinched. This would be easier if she didn't have his full attention.

"Who is he then?"

Selena told him.

"Jeck the smith's assistant," Wyldon repeated in the carefully calm voice he used to suppress emotion.

Selena nodded slowly, as though avoiding sudden motions would make the notion more palatable to him.

Wyldon blinked and looked down at his hands as though he expected to something useful written on them.

"It would appear that I have rendered you speechless, sir," Selena ventured before the silence grew smothering.

"I am surprised and disappointed," he said finally.

"I think you ought to be glad I'm not complicating things by seeing someone who'll issue me commands someday," she spat. Something about the deliberate blankness of his face made her feel that she was being mad for both of them.

"And I have much to consider," he added. "I haven't even met him.

"Might I be dismissed, sir?" Her eyes were filling were angry tears.

"If you wish." His face softened as he passed her a handkerchief. "Good evening, Selena, I will see you tomorrow."

MMMM

"I thought she looked a little ragged at supper," Neal muttered when Penelope told about Selena's plans. She'd ostensibly come to the infirmary to check up on one of the pages but they'd paused to have tea together for old times' sake.

"Jeck volunteered to go with her apparently," Penelope told him. "She insisted she needed to do it herself."

"I still have faith in the line between bravery and stupidity," Neal said reverently. "Even if people insist upon ignoring it."

"Better that than the line between cynicism and bitterness." Penelope took a smug swallow of tea.

"I suppose." Neal took a sip and shook his head thoughtfully. "And to think Dalton was worried when I caught him sneaking out of your room."

"You didn't want to kill him then, did you?" Penelope asked.

Neal shook his head. "You were listening through the door. No, I will confess to a brief—and unheeded—impulse to shake him by the shoulders. And I did rather enjoy watching him try to convince the floor to swallow him. But he held up disappointingly well. And I was mostly just glad you were with someone so responsible and…But Wyldon doesn't have my genial good nature."

"Does he drink tea?" Penelope wondered. "Perhaps she should have gone first thing in the morning."

Neal waved a dismissive hand. "Wyldon and I are two entirely separate kettles of fish."

"I beg to differ," Penelope murmured.

Neal glowered eloquently at her.

"You're more like a herd of geese, sir," Penelope asserted. "And Wyldon—Wyldon's just Wyldon—he could never be compared to something so undignified and slippery."

"Not to mention malodorous," Neal added.

_I'll try to have another episode up before Thanksgiving…it's going to be a difficult week for Wyldon. Thanks for reading everyone and enjoy the coming weekend! _


	16. Intent

_Welcome back and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last episode—I've gone back to fix a few of the sticky sentences. In the last episode, Wyldon finally learned that Selena had been seeing Jeck. This begins later that same evening. As always, real estate and recognizable characters belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

Kel was awake, trying to sooth a very colicky (and very noisy) Peregrine, when Wyldon knocked on her door in the small hours of the night. Both of their eyes were red with lack of sleep and they gazed blearily at one another as she gestured for him to come in.

"Dom's out carrying Wilda around the gardens. She doesn't fuss often, but when she does, night air seems to be the only cure." Kel adjusted her son's blankets and thrust him into Wyldon's arms so she could pull up a chair. "Kefira somehow manages to sleep through all of this."

"Snatching what sleep she can, what a good little soldier," Wyldon murmured. Peregrine gave a startled hiccup at the sound of his deep voice and ceased crying for a solid ten seconds.

"Surely you didn't come for company at this hour, sir," Kel said, speaking over Peregrine's renewed squalling. She stirred the fire and drew a blanket around her own shoulders. "And—as far as I know—the pages haven't set fire to the library. So Selena must have told you about Jeck."

Wyldon lifted his head in surprise and the baby gave a bewildered grunt and quieted his crying.

"But you never—how did--?"

"Women's intuition," Kel answered because she knew it would prevent further questions. And because she couldn't quite resist the temptation to unsettle Wyldon.

"It didn't occur to me she'd be seeing a commoner," he said, bouncing Peregrine gently in his arms. "Now, I'm rather ashamed of my surprise. I didn't think I held that kind of prejudice."

"Indeed?" Kel murmured, sounding so much like an echo of his former self that they both gazed at one another in alarm. Peregrine burped emphatically, spitting up all over Wyldon's shoulder. The older training master bore this with his usual stoicism and Peregrine giggled, sounding almost cheeky, if such a thing were possible for a baby.

"Sorry, sir," Kel muttered, passing him a rag.

Wyldon merely shrugged. "Fortunately, I've never been vain about my attire."

Kel smiled. "Selena could have done far worse—she might have followed the Lioness's precedent and fallen for a criminal."

Wyldon shook his head gently. "Or a married man."

"Or a conservative twice her age," Kel put in, fatigue having worn away her inner censor.

Wyldon snorted ever so softly and Peregrine sneezed. "Never—she has better sense."

"So you _do_ trust her judgment." Kel bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"I do. I don't always trust my trust because I'm not ready to see the end of… But I do trust her." He sighed and lowered Peregrine—who'd begun to snore faintly—to his lap. "I assumed he'd be noble and I was shocked into judging him harshly when he didn't meet that expectation. I've never even met the lad."

"That's easily remedied," Kel murmured.

"My thanks, Mindelan," Wyldom muttered, getting to his feet and passing Peregrine back to her. "I have troubled you long enough."

Kel shook her head. "If you can calm him so quickly, you're welcome to bring a new dilemma every evening."

MMMM

Wyldon found Jeck in the otherwise empty smithy shortly after dawn. He was already hard at work despite the snow that was rapidly blanketing the courtyards. Of course, Wyldon thought to himself, Selena would be drawn towards someone with good looks and a solid work ethic.

Jeck put down the blade he was working on and turned to greet his visitor with a curt bow. "Good day, Lord Wyldon, what might I do for you?" Only his constantly bending and flexing left fingers betrayed his nervousness.

"I understand I have you to thank for the excellent dagger that was recently delivered to me," Wyldon said, extending his hand.

"You are most welcome, sir." Jeck shook Wyldon's hand, watching him expectantly.

"I imagine you know why I have come."

"Does she know?" Jeck asked, without answering Wyldon.

"I did not inform her of my plans for the morning."

"She would be furious, my lord, if she knew we were discussing her in her absence," Jeck said quietly. He glanced defiantly up at Wyldon once before turning back to his work.

"Perhaps, you are suited for her after all," Wyldon murmured, "or at least better suited than most of the arrogant young gossips carrying their shields about this place."

Jeck shrugged and refused to acknowledge this as a compliment.

Wyldon watched him adjust the fire for a few minutes before saying, "maybe we should discuss you then."

"Very well." Jeck set down the bellows. "I ended a successful apprenticeship last year and have since been working as assistant smith. Master Salmalin's new lightweight metal has greatly expanded my own trade. I hope to earn enough within the next few years to replace the head smith when he retires." Jeck eyed the fired a moment, picked up the bellows, and pumped them twice. Then he turned back to Wyldon. "I will be here for Selena as long as she cares for me. Of course she—not to be crass, my lord, but she rather has the upper hand, given her status. I'm not about to take any drastic steps. And I won't presume to know what her intentions are."

Wyldon nodded slowly. "I see. And if you found they were similar to your own?"

"Then I would dare to hope we might come to a more permanent arrangement, sir."

Wyldon swallowed. "I'm not her father, you know."

Jeck stiffened and Wyldon half-expected him to make some sort of smart remark but he only shrugged. "Selena thinks highly of you, my lord, and speaks of you often."

Wyldon's breath caught for just an instant. "I'm not sure I'll ever consider anyone truly worthy of her, but you might come close." He sighed. "I imagine all young ladies enjoy bright and shiny gifts and yours are certainly more practical than most. I wish you well." And they shook hands once more.

MMMM

"Are you satisfied then?" Alanna asked, stepping out of the shadows to join Wyldon. She had been on her way to pay Jeck and pick up a few items of her own—since he apparently made hand-deliveries only to one particular squire—but she'd overheard the last few words of Wyldon's conversation (or rather confrontation) with Jeck and decided to have a few words with Wyldon herself.

Wyldon didn't even blink in surprise. "You and I are almost never satisfied. It's one of the few traits we have in common as I'm fairly certain Queenscove has observed."

"That wasn't an answer. Certainly not the sort of answer Selena deserves." Alanna glanced sideways at him. "We can't do both yet, you know."

"I'm not certain I do." Wyldon sighed. "Pray specify, lady knight."

"Noblewomen can make a "good" marriage alliance or be knights. Lady knights aren't allowed to do both yet because no one's sure what to make of us. We've broken so many rules that none of them fit anymore—I think George realized that even before I did—of course, I was still a boy then."

"Your er—situation was something of an anomaly," Wyldon protested.

"Exactly," Alanna muttered, "so were Kel's and Penelope's and so is Selena's." She smiled grimly. "I married a master-criminal—one conveniently made a most unconventional baron, but still a thief. Kel bore a daughter to one of the King's Own, keeping his identity a secret until he was free to wed her—and the marriage brought them happiness but didn't improve the status of either family."

"But Penelope—" Wyldon began.

"Penelope married another knight," Alanna agreed, "my squire—as I'm sure you'll recall, and a decidedly unconventional young man. And his respectable family still refuses to have anything to do with her." She shook her head. "That's not quite true—Dalton's mother sent her a brief apologetic letter. But his father prefers to pretend she doesn't exist." Alanna stopped when they reach the edge of the practice court and Wyldon turned to face her. "My point, Lord Wyldon, is that Selena might actually be a more successful knight if she marries"—she'd been tempted to say 'takes a lover' but she thought Wyldon would be more inclined to listen if she didn't deliberately provoke him—"beneath her station. Certainly, I think she'll be happier. Good day, my lord."

They nodded once at each other and she spun around, returning to her own errand with Jeck.

MMMM

"Have you seen the twins yet ?" Penelope asked Dalton when she returned to their room after a glaive practice with the queen. It had run later than she'd expected but her squires still hadn't shown up.

Dalton glanced up from the shirt he was mending—it had never occurred to him to ask his wife to perform such chores for him, largely because he was far better at sewing than she was—and shook his head. "Now that you mention it though, I realize we didn't absolutely specify that we desired their presence at the pages' morning practice today, and given their tendency to spot loopholes…" He set down his mending and shoved his feet into boots.

Penelope nodded. "Right, do you want to split up to look for them or do you think we should—"

"Present an opposing force equal to their own?" Dalton finished. "We'll go together since there—" Penelope joined him so that they chorused—" are two of them."

"Mithros," she muttered, pulling their door shut. "They're rubbing off on us."

Dalton shook his head and pulled her close so that he could brush his nose along her cheek. "I prefer to think that we're rubbing off on each other."

"A much more appealing notion," Penelope admitted, kissing him. "Though admittedly rather…

"Distracting," Dalton muttered.

Penelope stepped away but kept her fingers linked with his.

"They'll have made sure not to leave boot prints in the snow," Dalton muttered as they stepped out into it. "They're too clever for their own good."

"And, rather bored unfortunately," Penelope added. "Perhaps we ought to track down some sort of fire-breathing monster to tackle."

"The fire-wraith emitted flames through its pores—something that only breathed fire might be a bit of a let down," Dalton told her. "Though I'll be content to settle for opponents that can only slice, trample, and club us in the future."

MMMM

"A word, Selena?"

She glanced once at the pages—all immersed in their paired drilling—and then nodded reluctantly at her knight master, following him around the corner of an equipment shed to reduce their risk of being overheard. She drew in her breath sharply. They hadn't spoken since she'd left him the previous evening.

"I took the liberty of introducing myself to Jeck this morning," Wyldon began directly in an impossible-to-read tone.

Selena felt her gut plummet through all the layers of bedrock beneath the palace grounds. She let out the breath she'd been holding but refused to look up at him.

"We had a rather enlightening conversation," he continued. "One that reminded me that your decisions are yours to—Curse it, girl, I thought you'd ceased expecting the world's good opinion." He didn't quite shout, but there was a rare note of exasperation in his voice.

Selena blinked up at him. "I know I'll never have the world's approval, sir, and I don't care in the least for it." She swallowed. "Yours is another matter entirely."

"You have it, Selena," he murmured. "You've earned it rather irrevocably."

"Sir?" She didn't bother keeping the puzzlement from her voice since she had no idea how to phrase her question.

"I'm afraid I misjudged—or rather judged too hastily—the situation—and Master Jeck. You'll be a full knight in a little over a month and no longer under my supervision—such as it is—I have never presumed to govern your heart." He reached out and took one of her clenched fists in his own hands. "You shouldn't let my faulty expectations or my surprise keep you from a good man."

"I—thank you for reconsidering, sir—and for you honesty."

He cleared his throat. "Er—that doesn't mean—that is—I expect you to exercise reasonable discretion. And I—perhaps you had better find an older woman—erm perhaps not Penelope, but Mindelan might offer—that is if you should need advice regarding matters of erm a…"

She might have enjoyed Wyldon's sudden squeamishness more—she had never seen him struggle so much for words—if she hadn't been rather embarrassed herself. As it was she lot she'd better rescue him from his discomfort before he said something truly mortifying.

"I think I can reasonable assure you, sir, that I will not turn to you for any sort of, uh, intimate advice. Particularly not when so many others are better qualified to dispense it. Nor am I inclined to be forthcoming with details in my conversations with you, "

"You are a sensible young woman," he muttered with obvious relief. Then they were both rescued by Kel's shouts as the pages finished their drill. "And soon to be that great rarity," he added as they hurried back into view, "a sensible young knight."

MMMM

Penelope and Dalton finally tracked down their squires—or at least word of them—when they met Tobe and his sweetheart, Tessa, near the Riders' barracks.

"They're out causing heartache and mayhem," Tessa explained, gesturing towards a small cluster of figures darting through the Rider stables. "They've been teasing one of the Riders—dressed identical and ducking around the stalls, switching places so he can't keep them straight."

"Only they don't realize Will's a twin himself," Tobe put in cheerfully. "And Brand's dressed just like him today and pulling the same stunt."

"I think you're set has the upper hand though," Tessa told them. "It's those big brown eyes."

"She would know," Tobe muttered, pulling Tessa close so that her head fit beneath his chin.

Tessa rolled her own captivating brown eyes at Penelope.

'So how long have they—" Dalton began.

"Not long," Tobe said. "I suspect they'll figure each other out in about seven minutes," he added.

Dalton shook his head. "For all you know, they've figured it already and they're pretending they haven't."

"Doesn't make it any less amusing," Tessa said. "I'll wager the morning ends with two miserable cases of unrequited love."

Penelope grinned. "You'll have to be more specific if you want to put coins on it. Two coppers says we get a love triangle."

"Three says Brand and Rissa will decide to play matchmakers for Vina and Will," Tobe put in.

"Actually," Dalton said in mock misery, "the four of them are more likely to band together in a platonic tribe of twins and spend the rest of the winter looking for ways to con—"

Penelope laid her fingers across his lips to keep him from finishing. It wasn't a moment of superstitious weakness, she simply knew the twins had excellent hearing and didn't want to risk his inspiring further mischief.

"A kiss might be more effective with that one, lass," George muttered as he stepped around the rider barracks. "Of course, if you'll let an honest old thief in on your speculatin', I'll wager this is the start of somethin' like a full-scale war between Riders and squires."

His prediction was followed by a long chorus of laughter as the twins 'caught' each other. This in turn was followed by a fusillade of snowballs as the Rissa and Vina lead the Riders in an attack on their knight masters and their companions.

"I suppose Dalton an' I'll be splittin' the profits," George muttered as he brushed snow from his clothing and gathered a handful in order to retaliate.

Dalton glanced at Penelope. "Well if he isn't a responsible adult yet, there's—"

"No reason we should be," Penelope finished in an uncanny mimicry of the twins' tone. Tobe and Tessa were already readying their second missiles.

MMMM

Owen, Neal, Alanna, Kefira, Nessa, Sarralyn (in snowshoe hare form), Daine (as a magnificent artic fox), Evin Larse, and several of the Riders (and a few of the more playful ponies) had joined the fight by the time Kel and Dom encountered it.

"It's a wonder I ever get anything serious accomplished around here," Kel muttered, trying to contain her smile.

"I don't know," Dom said, as they watched Roland lead a troop of pages into the fray. "That looks like some serious strategizing to me."

Kel let out an exasperated sigh that was half chuckle. "Yuki is watching the twins this afternoon. Perhaps I ought to…supervise."

_So, I hope that's given you all pleasant diversion from midterm mayhem and misery. I'm planning 1-3 more chapters (depending on the number of stunts certain characters pull when they highjack my imagination) followed by a fluffy epilogue. And I think it will be finished by mid-December. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! _


	17. Intransient

_Many thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last episode—you definitely inspired me to put Jeck in this one. Here's the promised pre-Thanksgiving chapter, which contains, as you undoubtedly expect, characters and a country belonging to Tamora Pierce. This episode begins about five hours after the previous one, in which Wyldon came to terms with Selena and Jeck and Kel supervised a snowball fight. Bon __appétit!_

Kel yawned and lowered herself gingerly onto the sofa beside Dom. They'd gathered in the Lioness's sitting room with Owen Neal and Yuki. The twins were sleeping peacefully on a heap of blankets in the corner while Kefira and Nessa were toasting bread in the fireplace (and making a mess of charred crumbs across the carpet).

George smiled and poured them each a glass of brandy. "All that dedicated supervision took a toll did it?"

Kel was still yawning too widely to protest, but Alanna elbowed her husband in the ribs. "She was probably up half the night quieting complaining infants," she said—her tone was just pointed enough that Kel wondered briefly if this weren't some sort of clever way of insulting Wyldon. "There's nothing wrong with a little healthy spontaneity."

"I'll drink to that," Yuki agreed. And they raised their glasses in a toast to healthy spontaneity and occasional mayhem.

"It was jolly," Owen said, voice full of nostalgia as though he were describing his distant childhood rather than the events of the afternoon.

"Even if my back is decidedly ungrateful," Neal agreed.

"Just you wait a few years," Alanna muttered. "Your knees and fingers will add their complaints." She shook her head. "And it will still be worth it." She sighed.

"You keep that in mind," Dom murmured, tweaking Kel's nose gently. "We wouldn't want to see you get so set in your ways you turn into Wyldon."

"Impossible," Alanna told them. "Wyldon's a unique case and even he's evolved over the years. I'm not quite sure he's himself anymore."

Kel choked so badly that both Dom and Neal reached to pound her on the back. George frowned and glanced from his wife to the brandy bottle as though trying to decide whether he should take her current glass away or pour her another one.

Finally, Neal reached to grab the bottle from him. "I'm afraid the world as we know it is about to come to a sudden and tragic demise."

"He's still a thick-skulled, impossible old codger," Alanna assured them.

"But he's a jolly good thick-skulled, impossible old codger," Owen added.

MMMM

Dalton blinked in surprise at the knock—the bell signaling the pages' curfew had long since rung—and made his way to the door, expecting to find Vina and Rissa waiting with a cheeky remark and a whiny request. Instead he found an exhausted-looking Wyldon, who seemed just as surprised to see Dalton.

"Good evening, I hope I have not disturbed you. Might I have a word with Lady Knight Penelope?"

"I'm afraid she's…" Dalton glanced back at the screen behind which Penelope was bathing. He rather suspected Wyldon would dislike any reference to her being less than fully clothed.

There was a loud splash and a quiet curse before Penelope called, "just a moment, my lord."

It was more than a moment, Dalton thought as he stood uncomfortably beneath Wyldon's awkward gaze. Still, it didn't take Penelope long to emerge freshly dressed, though barefoot and with her wet hair dripping against the back of her shirt.

"Is this about Selena?" she asked, eyes suddenly blazing. She did not pull her hands behind her back to address him—he seemed not to expect it and it was late.

Wyldon nodded.

"Would you like me return lat—" Dalton began.

"That won't be necessary," Wyldon said quietly, "I trust you will also keep what I say in confidence and I have no wish to impose."

Dalton nodded and retreated to a corner of the room, burying his face in a book and sitting on a clothes chest so that Wyldon could take the only chair if he wished. Wyldon apparently did not wish, since he stepped in and shut the door to stand erect just beside it.

Wyldon let out a long sigh before beginning. "Yesterday evening Selena informed me that she has become… romantically involved with one of the smith's assistants," he began. "And-- 

"I'm not going to discourage her from seeing Jeck, sir" Penelope interrupted, grabbing a comb and pulling it fiercely through her hair in what Dalton recognized as a sure sign of temper. "It's her decision and, quite frankly, I approve. She's not going to marry a highborn knight. You can't expect her to live like she's in a convent. I certainly didn't and I don't regret it." Her eyes flickered briefly towards Dalton. "And Selena's far more responsible and respectable than I ever was. She hasn't slep—done anything you'd be ashamed to hear. Unlike most of the squires who consort with the lower classes, she isn't in it for a quick tumble. And, though you seem rather oblivious to the fact, they are happy together—they deserve a chance at that. So if you think—" She bit back a yelp as her comb hit a particularly nasty tangle.

"I think you ought not to jump to conclusions, Proudcreek, before I have finished speaking" Wyldon snapped. "And though I appreciate your candor—" he paused to shoot Dalton an unreadable look—"and your defense of your friend, I think you ought to trust Selena to inform me of her own opinion."

"Has she done so?" Penelope asked, giving the comb a final tug through her hair and setting it down.

Wyldon nodded. "Selena and Jeck and I have come to an understanding."

"Oh." Penelope glanced down bashfully. "I'm glad to hear it, sir." She lifted her head and began pulling her hair into a braid.

"So am I," Wyldon said slowly. "Now may I proceed with the purpose of my visit?"

Penelope nodded almost meekly—though this was partially due to the fact that she was also trying to tie off her braid.

Wyldon cleared his throat. "These recent events in her personal life reminded me that she will soon be facing her Ordeal of knighthood and leaving my instruction. Which gave me other matters to consider."

Penelope nodded since he seemed to be expecting some sort of response.

"I understand that you were instructed in the Code after you bathed," Wyldon continued.

"You are correct, my lord," Penelope murmured.

"Would you be willing to do the same for Selena?"

"My lord?' Penelope took a half step backwards so she could read the sincerity in his face.

"Yes, you," he said. "I thought it preferable to request a lady knight."

"But—"

"It isn't traditional to ask the current training master to perform such additional duties," Wyldon said calmly. "And the Lioness and I aren't known for our ability to converse civilly. But you have already become something a legend yourself and, though we don't always agree, I think we are able to understand and respect one another—at least, when we don't jump to conclusions." There was just a trace of humor in his voice as he finished.

"I'd be honored," she managed finally. "But I'm more of a curiosity than a legend."

Wyldon pulled his features into a slight smile and extended his hand. "My thanks, lady knight," he murmured, grasping her hand warmly. "Good evening to you both," he added, nodding at Dalton as he left.

Dalton blinked at Penelope and she let out a helpless laugh as soon as the door had shut behind him. Dalton covered his face with his hands to keep from joining in. "That was rather awkward," she said, undressing and pulling a nightshirt over her head.

"For all three of us," Dalton agreed, pulling back their covers and sitting on the edge of the bed. "But I imagine it was the least awkward conversation of Wyldon's day."

Penelope winced and blew out their candle. "Suddenly, I feel like we had it too easy." She reached out to trace his neck and shoulder with one hand. "Neal and Alanna both accepted—Mindelan didn't try to separate us—we never had to deal with…"

Dalton pulled her quickly into his arms so that she settled beside him on the bed. "You're forgetting all the malicious gossip, all the sneaking behind the stables and into one another's rooms, all the attacks from Marcel, all the—"

Penelope silenced him with a quick kiss. "Wouldn't you rather remember all the good moments?" she teased.

He smiled and dropped his face close to hers, mumbling against her cheek, "so long as you remember we deserved each of them." He kissed her gently.

"And this one too." She sighed contentedly. "And we will make sure things are…not so awkward for Vina and Rissa—whatever they choose to do with themselves."

Dalton laughed. "I couldn't be as intimidating as Wyldon if I tried—which I certainly won't."

Penelope yawned and then lifted her head in sudden alarm. "What about their Ordeal?" she wondered aloud. "Are we going to—"

Dalton silenced her with a more lingering kiss. "We needn't plan it tonight—we've years still. And I imagine we'll end up improvising anyway."

"We always seem to." Penelope smiled and settled against his chest.

She felt and heard Dalton's laugh. "It generally works."

MMMM

Selena found Penelope and Dalton just as they were helping each other up after a particularly hard fought mock duel. Their swords had locked together and gone spinning across the yard and they'd been so surprised they collapsed in a graceless heap. Selena retrieved both swords and carried them over to the young knights.

"Thanks," she said quietly as returned Penelope's. They both knew exactly what she meant.

"It's only fair," Penelope muttered. They began tapping their swords together as they spoke, half-dueling, half-repeating a familiar drill the way young girls might clap to rhyming song. "You'd have done the same for me."

"Still," Selena said. "I appreciate it. I know Wyldon can be…difficult and enigmatic."

"Well," Penelope said. "You might have warned me he'd seen reason. Then I wouldn't have felt obligated to give him a piece of my mind."

"Actually, she tried to shove a whole clump of thoughts down his throat," Dalton told Selena. "It was rather fascinatingly entertaining in a horribly mortifying sort of way—once I realized he wasn't going to take us around back and behead us."

Penelope rolled her eyes at her husband. "But clearly he'd had a change of heart—which I suppose proves he has one." She twisted and parried as her duel with Selena grew more serious.

"It wasn't my eloquence," Selena muttered. "Telling him was like throwing pebbles at a stone wall. He told me he talked to Jeck—who refuses to tell me what they said. But I think someone else offered her own forceful opinion. I can't decide whether it was--"

"Lioness," Penelope said decisively as she nearly managed to slip through Selena's guard.

"But she doesn't speak with him," Selena protested, bringing her blade down in an overhead sweep so that Penelope had to jump out of the way.

"No," Dalton agreed. "But she's an incorrigible old matchmaker—"

"And fairy godsmother," Penelope put in.

"and she's not above interfering one way or another," Dalton continued. "Penelope and I were very lucky that she approved of us."

"Well, Wyldon already knew about you two—even if he pretended not to—he wouldn't have done anything to punish you unless he caught you two erm—"

"She did," Penelope said matter-of-factly, which made Selena drop her guard long enough for Penelope to disarm her.

"Don't let her shock you," Dalton told her as he retrieved the weapon. "It's an old tactic of hers—she'll say anything. Alanna only happened to guess that I was in Penelope's room at an indecent hour of the morning when I failed to show up for a dawn training session."

"But she didn't tell Mindelan?"

"She wouldn't," Penelope said. "It would have been hypocritical."

"You mean, because she lived with George before… but she wasn't still a squire then."

"Actually, I meant because she slept with the king before she courted George."

"But she was his squire," Selena began and then drew her lips into a round O.

"Sounds convenient, doesn't it?" Penelope muttered. "Or it would if I could get over my squeamishness at the fact that he was the heir to the throne and her knight master."

"But only a few years older," Selena pointed out. "And everyone thought she was a boy—which just complicates—" she shook her head quickly. "I thought that was just a rumor."

"One with definite factual origins," Dalton confirmed. "Though technically, she kissed George first."

Penelope shot him an envious glance. "She never told me that."

Dalton laughed and offered each of them an arm as they set off towards the stables. "I'm not sure she remembers telling me—though I got George to confirm it later—we were snowed in at an inn with excellent mead. Incidentally, don't ever dare her to sing when she's drunk. She can't carry a tune but she knows some positively scarring lyrics."

Selena bit her lip to keep from giggling. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at any of them the same way again."

Penelope grinned. "The key is to keep thinking the words _it was years ago_ whenever you're in the same room with the Lioness and the king. It really is over—look at George and Thayet."

"You don't think the baron and the queen ever—" Selena began. But Dalton's fingers and Penelope's wince silenced her. Selena decided she ought to tell them the few details of Wyldon's youthful courtship that she'd picked up over the years.

MMMM

The distant laughter startled Kel into jumping as she finished her notes on the pages' progress. She turned to find Wyldon—who'd been coerced into carrying Wilda—and Dom—who was holding Peregrine—watching Selena, Penelope, and Dalton disappear from view.

"Just reminiscing, Mindelan," Wyldon muttered. "I don't think I laughed nearly so much at that age."

"I don't doubt it, sir," Dom said as the three of them began making their way back to the palace.

"I don't think I did either," Kel murmured. "I do more now, I think. But I was at New Hope and Steadfast then and—" she glanced at Dom and remembered a few hidden kisses—" I suppose laughed often enough to keep things in perspective."

"You and I haven't changed all that much, Mindelan. We've just realized a few things." Wyldon frowned thoughtfully. "And I've erm—mellowed a bit."

"In a very discrete and distinguished way, sir," Kel assured him, taking Wilda from him as they stepped inside. "It suits you."

Wyldon shook his head. "Old age doesn't suit anybody." He smiled at Wilda, who stretched out a fist to bop him on the chin. "Certainly not the way motherhood suits you." He nodded once at Dom and walked away.

"He has changed," Dom murmured.

Kel nodded. "He's just too stubborn to admit it—which I suppose means he hasn't changed all that much." She shook her head.

"You haven't either," Dom told her. "You are the same woman I first kissed at Steadfast." He frowned thoughtfully. "Only more so."

Kel's forehead crinkled. "That made no sense."

Dom nodded. "As Meathead might tell us, love rarely does."

MMMM

"You know, a jealous man might wonder about the amount of time you spend with Sir Dalton," Jeck told Selena as they paused in their walk around the grounds.

"We work together. He's an old friend—one of my only friends among the pages I trained with—and he's married to my closest female frie—" Jeck's fingers on her cheek were so distracting that she broke of mid-word.

"I've met Penelope." Jeck let his fingers trail over her ear and he gazed seriously at her. "I'm not jealous. If she can laugh off the rumors, I can too."

"There will be lots of them," she warned, "especially after I earn my shield. And people will talk about us."

"I hope you don't mind," Jeck murmured, pulling her into a hug. "I know I don't. You're worth it." He pressed his lips to her hair. " But I am curious as to how that rumor about you and that Rider started."

Selena laughed. "She kissed me on a bet during a midsummer party. And then she split the profits with me—five coppers each—I was a little worried about what that meant for a while. But you needn't be jealous on that count—she's with another Rider now, Tessa's sister, I think." She kissed his cheek and then laced her arm through his, tugging him gently along the path. "You could come celebrate midwinter with me to prevent that sort of confusion."

"But—I'm not—won't you be—"

"I'm the one earning my shield—I can invite whomever I want afterwards," she told him. "Besides, Wyldon's already offered to invite Lady Alanna—you'll be most welcome in comparison. There won't be any stodgy old conservatives who'll look down on you."

Jeck chuckled lightly. "If my lady insists."

_Okay, so does anyone else yawn when they read/write the word? _

_So, I'll try to have another chapter up by the end of the week but holidays are always a little crazy at my house with a father who thinks he's a gourmet chef, a grandmother who wants to know why I'm not married yet, another grandmother who thinks I'm my mother, a mother who is a force of nature, one grandfather who thinks I should be a chem. major, and another who reminds me a little of Wyldon. Ah family, they're kind of_ _inspiring in a horribly mortifying sort of way…My goal is to have Love and Money wrapped up by mid-December. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. And Happy Thanksgiving/ Day of Remembrance to all who celebrate! May your mashed potatoes and fanfiction be fluffy!_


	18. Interesting

_Thanks to all who reviewed the previous chapter and apologies for not getting this up sooner—I wrote most of it over Thanksgiving break but caught an epic head cold on the plane ride back to school and got sidetracked by decongestants—Nyquil must be in league with the great germ incubator Delta—and paper deadlines. In any case, this episode takes place three weeks (or so) after the previous one, in which Wyldon asked a favor or Penelope and Selena invited Jeck to a midwinter gathering. As always, real estate and recognizable characters belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

"Nervous?" Wyldon called, forcing Selena to turn around on her way out of the practice courts. It was three days before midwinter and her Ordeal was the next morning.

"Yes, sir," she answered, forcing her voice to stay calm.

Wyldon shook his head at her. The others would all have lied—Owen certainly had, Penelope might have—and told him they weren't. But Selena had never been afraid of admitting fear, which made him wonder occasionally if she weren't braver than the rest of the lot…

"Is that all, sir?"

Wyldon nodded. "Don't spend the day thinking about it. Distract yourself and then get some rest this afternoon. I trust you can manage that."

"I shall try, sir."

MMMM

Selena went for a short ride with Penelope and then found Jeck shortly after midmorning.

He greeted her with a quick kiss and then scanned her face before pressing a hammer into her hands. "You look like you need to pound away at something."

She nodded and he passed her an unfinished shield. "Have at the lumps, my lady."

"But I don't know—"

"Just smash them flat. It's pretty intuitive. You can't ruin it." He pressed his lips to her hair. "I'll be able to fix any dents you make."

Selena did find the process intuitive and extraordinarily satisfying. Jeck was pleasantly surprised by her technique and Penelope was mildly unnerved by the racket when she came to fulfill her promise to Wyldon that she would make sure Selena napped.

Jeck kissed her smashed fingers—there had been a few accidents—and held her for a long moment. Penelope waited patiently, remembering the afternoon she had spent in Dalton's arms before her own Ordeal. Selena set her forehead against his collarbone and sighed before stepping back and smiling bravely.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered.

He nodded and brushed the tears from her cheeks before Penelope led her away.

MMMM

Kel tried to leap out of bed first thing the next morning, convinced that she'd overslept and something terrible had happened to Selena.

Dom's arm tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer without opening his eyes. "It isn't dawn yet. She won't be going in for another hour," Dom mumbled against her neck.

Kel turned and blinked at him as he opened his eyes. "But what if…" She trailed off, unsure what she had been about to suggest.

"You can't quit worrying about them, can you?"

"It's like a test for me too every time." She sighed. "Selena will pass though."

"They always seem to," Dom muttered sleepily. Kel's eyes were already drifting closed again.

MMMM

Dalton woke to find Penelope snuggled even closer than usual, her head buried under the blanket. It had been the coldest night of the winter thus far.

She blinked and burrowed against him when he lifted the blanket, setting her icy nose against his shoulder.

"George warned me about this," Dalton muttered fondly, reaching to tweak the offending nose.

"Did he?" She yanked the covers back up to her chin.

"His exact words were 'small women are all heat parasites'." He kissed one of her very cold ears.

Penelope lifted her head to kiss him. Her lips were surprisingly warm. "You don't seem to mind all that much."

"That's what Alanna told him." He wrapped a warm hand around her shoulder. "It was more of an observation than a complaint." He stretched out his legs. "Then George shot back something about her being 'easy to keep in bed' and I decided we'd all be more comfortable if I left the room immediately."

"Do you think George will warn Jeck in from of Wyldon?"

"Unfortunately, I think he has too much common sense." Dalton stretched his arms. "In any case, it might not be warranted." He smiled. "Selena's rather taller than you are."

Penelope glared cheerfully at him—he wasn't sure whether this was for his remark or because of the cold air that drifted under the blanket.

"And she's a stoic," Penelope muttered as Dalton reached for their clothing. "She'd just be cold if she was cold. Last night she probably—" And then Penelope sprang out of bed, eager to be at the chapel.

"Worried are we?" Dalton teased, though he was also shivering and hurrying to dress so they could be there is time to watch Selena emerge.

"Of course not," she lied, grinning as she pulled on wool socks. "But you let in a draft."

MMMM

Selena emerged a frightening shade of grey, her nostrils flaring with each hasty breath. Penelope reached her first and was reminded just how much taller Selena was as she struggled to support the larger woman's weight. Then she had to struggle out of the way as Kel, Wyldon, and Jeck all converged on her.

Wyldon pounded her on the back—rather gently—until she coughed and told him that she was "well enough, sir." Kel pulled her in for a quick hug and wrapped a blanket around her shaking shoulders, but she had to leave a few moments later when Peregrine started fussing. Then Jeck supported one side—pressing a discrete kiss to her cheek—and Wyldon took the other so they could traipse back to Selena's room. Alanna winked at Selena as she departed and exchanged a civilized nod with Wyldon.

Penelope hurried ahead of them to open Selena's door. Jeck and Wyldon steered her directly to the bed. Penelope propped her up against a few pillows.

"Thanks," Selena murmured. "I'm so—" she shook her head—"it's over?" she asked Wyldon.

"You appear to have survived," he told her.

She nodded. " I wasn't certain I would." She laced her fingers through Jeck's. "I'm glad."

Jeck monitored Wyldon's face carefully as he sat on the edge of her bed. Penelope watched with baited breath as she retrieved a spare blanket.

"It's not you I trust," Wyldon informed Jeck calmly. "It's her."

"Of course," Jeck said. "She is a full knight, sir. You trained her yourself."

"He might have meant me," Penelope muttered as she draped the blanket around Selena's shoulders.

"If you hadn't learned entirely too much from Queenscove," Wyldon told her. "Jeck has better sense than that."

Selena smiled at both of them and rolled her eyes at Penelope. "I'll be on my feet again in no time," she promised

"You should eat something," Wyldon muttered. And then he cast an irritable glance at the three of them before ordering Penelope to fetch it.

"I'd still say he's taking things rather well," Penelope called to Selena, waving cheekily at Wyldon as she left.

MMMM

"I have a question," Rissa announced, breathing hard from her run across the courtyard.

Penelope glanced back across the practice courts at Dalton and frowned. Rissa had been standing beside Dalton, she could easily have asked him any questions about technique, equipment, or their plans for the day. So her question was likely to be of the kind that Kel would euphemistically call "challenging".

"It's sort of about him," Rissa clarified as she saw where Penelope was looking. "Er—when you two—uh the first time you kissed him, were you worried about what your best friend would think?"

Penelope blinked. "He was kissing me back." She smiled at Rissa's bewildered expression. "He's still my best friend. We were both glad we'd lived through the morning and sorry we'd been fighting for the past week."

"That's unfair and unhelpful," Rissa muttered.

"Of course it is." Penelope led Rissa into the stables, where it was minimally warmer. "It's different for everyone."

"Unless you're a twin—then it's supposed to be the same for both of you."

Penelope frowned. "Are you and Vina fighting over a boy?"

"No. She's not the least bit interested in him—or his friend, Simon, who invited her—it makes me feel like I shouldn't want…"

"Why not?" Penelope grabbed a brush and began grooming.

"Because Vina doesn't want to go into Corus with either of them," Rissa whined. "So if I go with _him_, I don't know if she'll come with _us." _

Penelope knew better than to ask who _he _was. She'd spotted Rissa flirting with a pair of older squires that morning. "What does Vina have to do with it?"

"Nothing." Rissa stamped her foot. "It's just that…"

"Look," Penelope said, reaching for a hoofpick. "If you trust him—if he treats you fairly on the practice courts—and if you can talk with him and he makes you want to laugh and dance, go wander the midwinter fair with him. Otherwise don't. I'm too cold for a long wheedling debate."

"I know," Rissa began. "It's just that—"

"You don't really want my advice," Penelope snapped. "You'll do whatever you feel like regardless of what I say. You just want to be reminded you can—" she caught her squire's eye—"within reason." Her horse swished her tail as though in agreement. "And you want to me to talk Vina into joining you, which I won't—she'll do whatever she wants anyway. For all I know, she has better taste and the boy's an ugly bore."

"Thanks," Rissa muttered, already sprinting away.

"Ah, nothing like twin rivalry," Alanna muttered lightly, emerging from her own horse's stall.

Penelope jumped. "I'm not any good at this. I should probably go—"

"You aren't a natural, but you're working at it." Alanna grabbed Penelope's elbow to stop her. " 'It's different for everyone'," she repeated, winking. "You forced her to make up her mind. If she'd wanted coddling reassurance she'd have found someone else for it. Dalton perhaps. "

"I suppose." Penelope sighed. "Tell me I was never that silly."

"I don't do false reassurance either," Alanna told her. "You were recklessly stubborn—so was I admittedly—and very lucky that Dalton is so patient."

MMMM

Dalton found Vina staring morosely at an archery target as she peppered it with arrows.

"So you didn't go into Corus with Rissa and what's-his—"

"No," Vina snapped, snatching another arrow.

"Oh," Dalton murmured, preparing to back away. He was in no mood for anyone else's foul mood.

"I didn't want to," Vina admitted, lowering her bow. "You must think I'm strange."

"I don't think you're strange," Dalton told her, crossing his arms and leaning against a fence post.

She glared unbelievingly at him.

"I know you're unusual." He shot her a smile, which she returned half-heartedly. "Why not go?"

"I think—I know Joss likes Rissa. So, she's going with him." Vina didn't sound entirely pleased with this fact. "But Simon just wants _a girl_—he's more interested in touching me than talking to me. And I'm not at all interested in him." She glanced at Dalton as though she expected him to find this foolish.

"I'd be disappointed if you were," Dalton muttered. "He sounds a bit thick to me." He looked over at her target. "Certainly not worth twenty arrows in this cold weather."

"Nineteen." Vina shrugged miserably. "I almost agreed to go though."

Dalton blinked, suddenly alarmed by the prospect of her tears. Penelope didn't cry often and he didn't handle tears well.

"Because of Rissa," Vina continued. "I'm so used to doing everything in a pair that when Rissa paired off with Joss I wanted the same thing. Only I didn't. I don't. I'm just afraid of being alone and not having any idea who I am." She blinked defiantly at him.

Dalton stepped forward instinctively. "Nobody really has any idea. I don't. Penelope doesn't. I don't think Mindelan does. We're all just making it up as we go along." He wrapped his arms around Vina as she dove towards chest. "I think Alanna and Wyldon might have some vague ideas about who they are, but only because they're both so stubborn."

Vina chuckled unhappily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart—I just—I feel like I know Rissa better than Vina and it ought to be the other way around. So I feel like I want to just be me—not part of anything else—for a while, until I know who that is." She sounded momentarily confident. "Only I'm not sure how."

Dalton blinked and seized on the opportunity to extricate himself. "Why don't you bundle up and take your horse out for a stretch? Just the two of you. Horses are good for alone-but-not-lonely."

"I think I will," she muttered against his chest.

"Hopefully, you'll find Vina as wise and brave and loveable as the rest of us do," he muttered. "Though admittedly, I prefer the version who laughs as she trounces Roland on the practice court." She sniffled once more against his shirt and darted for the stables. Dalton watched her vanish and then turned to find Kel strolling towards him across the courtyard.

"I saw that," Kel murmured sternly. "I'm not sure her father would approve."

"It wasn't--" Dalton felt his fingers clench. "I would never—she's like a sister to me."

"That's how it looked," Kel said calmly, her eyes dancing as she pointed. "I was referring to the snotty patch she left behind—Lord Lanton is a most fastidious man."

Dalton meant to glare reproachfully at his former training master but he found himself grinning instead.

MMMM

Neal later described the gathering in Wyldon's apartments that evening as a historic occasion, one marked largely by the presence of the King's Champion (though she sat at the greatest possible distance from Lord Wyldon).

Greyson attempted to dissolve Jeck's hands by licking at them and in the process he did dissolve the last of Wyldon's doubts about the fellow.

Kel enjoyed the party immensely, largely because she got to farm out her infants to whoever admired them so that she could sit between Neal and Dom and watch their older daughter coax old war stories out of Wyldon. He didn't truly give in until Rissa and Vina wandered over to add their pleas.

Meanwhile, Kel let her gaze wander around the room, taking in Selena and Jeck, who were smiling shyly at each other as they cut themselves slices of jam tart, and Penelope and Dalton, who sat cross-legged by the fire with their knees just touching, deep in conversation.

"They're growing up on us," Dalton murmured.

Penelope nodded. "Rather terrifying, isn't it?"

"I don't know. They seem to be doing well enough."

Penelope snorted softly. "Do you want to handle Rissa's next question?"

Dalton pressed his forehead to hers. "I don't even want to imagine Rissa's next question, but I'm sure she'll bring it to me anyway."

Dom tweaked Kel's nose when he caught her eavesdropping. "They're all growing up on you," he teased.

"Rather terrifying, isn't it?" Neal repeated.

"I think it's wonderful," Kel said calmly and she almost believed it.

"It proves one thing at least," George added as he and Alanna sauntered closer (casting a few wary glances at Wyldon).

"We're all getting older?" Neal asked morosely.

"Exactly," George agreed rather cheerfully as soon as he'd drained his brandy, "and therefore, life isn't actually getting harder."

"Just more complicat—interesting," Neal muttered, as Wyldon rose from his chair and started towards them.

"Richer," Alanna corrected, splashing more brandy into all their glasses.

_So, hope you enjoyed. This was the final chapter, but I will be posting an insanely fluffy epilogue. It will probably be up this weekend. Meanwhile, happy reading, writing, and reviewing and good luck navigating flu and finals season!_


	19. Epilogue

_Warning: in addition to Tamora Pierce's characters and location, this epilogue contains roughly 200 of your daily recommended value of fluff. Preliminary anecdotal (and completely unscientific) studies suggest that high concentrations of fluff may alleviate PMS, tension headaches, and the common cold, however, high doses have been known to cause hysterical squealing and giggling as well as procrastination. _

_So, we're fastforwarding through about three years because Dalton diplomatically suggested it. I promise nobody has died and I think you will all like the results. _

"This is the eighth morning in a row, isn't it" Dalton murmured.

Penelope nodded from where she crouched miserably over the chamber pot. "So good of you to keep count."

"Perhaps, you should go see Neal," Dalton said, unable to keep from smiling with wonderful suspicion.

"You'd look more convincingly concerned for my wellbeing if you stopped grinning like an idiot," Penelope said, smiling slightly herself. "I might be horribly ill." She lifted her head gingerly—there couldn't be anything else left to bring up.

"I'm not an idiot." Dalton bent to wipe her lips with a wet cloth. "You aren't sick—you never get sick."

"May I present evidence to the contrary," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the pot. Then she sighed and scrambled to her feet, already feeling slightly better. "I'll go make sure though," she added. "I'd hate to think my overactive imagination was doing this to me." She sighed and glanced out the window. "Only I don't have time this morning, not with—"

Dalton silenced her with a quick kiss. "Go. We're volunteers. Kel will forgive you for being late—especially if you wake Neal up. Anyway, she'll understand." He passed her a tunic and boots so she could finish dressing. "I'll clean this up," he added, indicating the chamber pot.

Penelope stepped into his arms before he could reach for it though, and buried her face against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and they lingered together for a moment before she kissed his chin quickly and hurried away.

_MMMM_

_Penelope couldn't pinpoint a moment when she'd changed her mind about children in general—that had happened gradually over time, though her twin squires were undoubtedly to blame for convincing her that she was capable of nurturing--but she could remember the exact moment when she realized she'd wanted one of her own. _

_She and Dalton had been returning from a long summer—their first without Rissa and Vina—spent roaming as knights errant in the North (dealing with Immortals mostly, though occasionally joining with larger groups to tackle bandits) and at the palace gates they had met Kel and her children, just leading a group of pages back from fall camp. As soon as they'd dismounted, little Peregrine and Wilda had come rushing at them. Penelope had lifted Wilda—barely four—into her arms, spinning the little girl around so that she shrieked with laughter. She'd looked over and seen Dalton doing the same with Peregrine and they'd grinned at each other. And then she'd known. _

_She'd murmured Dalton's name that night as they were undressing. He'd turned to smile at her and she'd deliberately unfastened her charm and dropped it into the bottom of the clothes chest while he watched, wide-eyed._

_"I think," she'd said, her voice mostly steady, "that we should stay near the palace for a while." _

_He'd swallowed, unable to speak at first, and reached to trace her body with his hands. "As long as you need." His lips brushed hers. "We've nowhere else to go." _

_MMMM_

Neal was already awake, as it turned out, though he was still working his way through his second mug of tea.

"What has Nessa done now?" he grumbled.

"Nessa," Penelope told him, "is one of the few pages who manages never to get caught in any wrongdoing. She must take after her mother."

Neal scowled and offered her a cup of tea—which she refused for fear of upset—and they chatted as though it were one of their ordinary visits. It wasn't until she'd stepped out the door a few moments later that she realized she hadn't managed to ask him.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to turn around.

Neal blinked at her as she entered, suddenly aware that they were going to have one of _those _talks. He sighed and opened his arms wide as she darted suddenly into his embrace.

"Neal," she said hurriedly, "I think I'm pregnant."

"I did wonder why you came to see me instead of joining the queen for glaive practice," Neal murmured, pushing her gently away so that he could look at her face. He was tempted to smile, but unsure whether or not she'd want him to.

"I haven't quite been myself in the mornings," Penelope admitted, smirking at him somewhat shyly.

"Oh." Neal raised an eyebrow at her as she lifted her shirt.

"Please, I—we need to know for certain."

Neal nodded and extended a green-fire rimmed hand. Then he nodded again, more decisively, and pulled her into a quick hug.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Two months, I would guess," he said releasing her so that he could bustle around the room blending herbs. "I'm assuming, given the er—care you took during your squire years, that this is…"

"Welcome," Penelope finished calmly, lowering herself to sit on the edge of one of the cots. She felt slightly dizzy with the enormity of what Neal had just confirmed. "So, I should be due around—"

"Midsummer," Neal finished, "give or take a few weeks. It's becoming something of a trend among lady knights for reasons I have no particular desire to investigate." He pressed a mug of tea into her hands. "This will settle your stomach."

Penelope sniffed tentatively at it and frowned critically. "That's assuming I can drink it without gagging."

Neal scowled and added a large dollop of honey. "Any other complaints? Headaches? Stiffness?"

Penelope shook her head, "I'm mildly terrified, but for me that's a rather familiar condition. I'd be bored otherwise."

Neal leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You're both—you and Dalton and the baby—all of you are going to be wonderful." He watched her quietly while she drank her tea. She wasn't glowing, he decided, she was sparkling. Which, given that she was Penelope, made perfect sense.

"Morning practice started twenty minutes ago," she muttered, standing up. "And don't tell me I can't do that because you let Kel—"

"Just make me one small promise," Neal said, ushering her out the door.

She blinked at him.

"Let Dalton take care of you every once in awhile, when you're tired."

She smiled. "Who do you think dealt with the chamber pot this morning?" And she positively seemed to skip away.

MMMM

He was in the midst of demonstrating proper stance to a first year, but Dalton's gaze met Penelope's as soon as she appeared at the edge of the practice courts.

_I am, _she mouthed and he nodded at her, grinning broadly and resisting the urge to run to her and spin her around. Or at least, resisting it until Kel called a halt to training, at which point he sprinted straight to her.

MMMM

Although she was no longer responsible for helping with their training, Selena found Wyldon beside the courts just as the pages' practice ended for the morning. Out of long habit, she found herself helping him gather up spare equipment, which was just as well because it gave her something to do with her hands.

"I asked Jeck to marry me this morning, sir," she said quickly, "I'm not looking for your approval, my lord, but I thought you'd want to be informed."

And Selena wanted to be the one to inform him herself this time. She hadn't told him directly when she'd moved into Jeck's quarters beside the smithy—thinking it would allow him to pretend that she was sleeping alone—and they'd had a few awkward silences before Wyldon sent her midwinter gift to Jeck's quarters with a note reading, _I know you wouldn't take such a step lightly, but I do wish you'd seen fit to keep me apprised of your whereabouts_.

Wyldon glanced awkwardly at her. "You aren't ah—that is?"

"Are you attempting to ascertain whether or not I'm pregnant?" She asked quickly, but she spared him quickly. "I'm not."

Wyldon looked away for a long moment. If he raised his eyebrows, he'd lowered them before he turned back to her. "I presume he agreed—otherwise I gravely overestimated the lad's intelligence."

Selena nodded. "We thought you might like—that is…"

"Are you attempting to invite me to your wedding?"

His eyesight was fading and his hands had begun to tremble with age, but his looks still had the power to silence her on occasion. Selena nodded again.

"Incidentally, lady knight, you both have my approval and my blessing," Wyldon muttered, stepping close just long enough to kiss her forehead.

MMMM

Penelope laughed as Dalton tugged her into the stables, spun her around, and kissed her thoroughly.

"You're alright then?" He gripped her shoulders gently.

"I'm starving. I think my stomach's caught up with me." She knew he hadn't been asking about her physical well-being per say. But at the moment, aside from being unsure how she was going to share the news with Wyldon and Kel—not to mention the Lioness, and Selena and Rissa and Vina—she felt wonderfully alive (and hungry).

Dalton smiled and wrapped an arm about her shoulders, enfolding her in the warmth of his cloak. "I suppose a trip to the kitchens is in order, then"

They stepped out from the stables just in time to see Wyldon plant a kiss on Selena's forehead before the two nodded at each other and parted.

Selena blinked in surprise and waved when she spotted them.

"Wyldon reserves physical gestures for extreme circumstances," Penelope told Selena. "So you've either just lost a relative—which your giddy smile rules out—or saved the kingdom—which is possible but I think I'd have heard of it." Penelope smiled. "Or you and Jeck have finally worked around the like-must-wed-like nonsense."

"Something like that." Selena grinned, her eyes dancing over Penelope's face. "Someone looks awfully pleased with herself."

"Someone's going to have a baby." The words fell from her mouth, surprising all three of them. There was one announcement over with.

Selena glanced from Dalton—who nodded and tightened his grip around Penelope's shoulders—to Penelope—who grinned widely—and then pulled both of them into a hug. There were a few tears and more than a few giggles. Fortunately Dalton had grown rather accustomed to mild hysteria during his years with Rissa and Vina and emitted a few deep and contented chuckles before disentangling himself.

"Don't worry," Selena told them. "I won't tell anyone. But you might want to give Wyldon a day or two—let him adjust to one thing at a time."

MMMM

Alanna arrived at the palace early the next afternoon. Penelope and Dalton rushed to meet her beside the stables just as she dismounted.

"Could we have word?" Dalton asked rather breathlessly.

Alanna nodded and then they froze.

Penelope blinked at the Lioness. The words that had come out so freely in front of Selena suddenly stuck in her throat. Dalton swallowed at his former knight mistress.

"I'll spare you—some things aren't easy to say," Alanna told them. "And I've a theory of my own." She set a violet-rimmed hand on Penelope's shoulder. "Which has indeed proven correct." She cleared her throat and extended a palm towards George who set a coin in it before he'd dismounted. She stuck it in her belt pouch and wrapped both arms around Penelope's shoulders, winking at Dalton.

"I do hope you'll find your voice again soon though, so you can raise your daughter to be as forthright as you usually are." That seemed to have the desired effect.

"Daughter?" they murmured together. Some men's voices might have registered disappointment, but Dalton's was just as delighted as his wife's, possibly more so.

"Yes," Alanna said. "As in female—"she paused just long enough for emphasis—"singular."

Penelope cast her eyes skyward in relief and Dalton grinned even wider, thinking he'd never yet fully appreciated the beauty of those two words.

George kissed Penelope's cheek and then clapped Dalton heartily on the back before dragging him away to deal with their horses.

"So," Alanna murmured when they were alone.

"I want this," Penelope said, laying a hand over her still-flat belly, "more than I've wanted anything since Dalton—or earning my shield even, but I'm afraid I won't be able to—"

Alanna took Penelope's hands in her own. "Are you good at breathing and blinking?"

Penelope was so puzzled by the question that she immediately ceased both functions until Alanna lifted one hand and gently tapped her cheek.

"Birth is also—usually—something your body just does. You can't be good or bad at it. Raising children is a little different—it is possible to smother them and end up with whiny incompetent brats—but it's also something you just do. You'll make mistakes—Goddess knows I did—and you'll make amends." Alanna sighed. "But you shouldn't measure yourself up to Kel or Daine or whichever wonderful mother you're comparing yourself to—it had better not be me—because you'll have to do it your own way, whatever way is best for you and Dalton and your child."

Penelope nodded, sniffling slightly. "I never knew my mother," Penelope muttered. And then she buried her head on Alanna's shoulder, crying quietly. "Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"I think we both know exactly what's gotten into you," Alanna whispered wryly. She lifted a hand to stroke the back of Penelope's braid. "I never knew my mother either. But I managed to find—and then make—a family of my own. You've done the same. At least, Neal and I—and probably Rissa and Vina—would both claim you and Dalton as part of ours. See—" she fished a handkerchief out of her belt-pouch and held it up to Penelope's nose—"blow."

Penelope did. And she felt immensely better afterwards.

MMMM

"I was bettin' news of the babe wouldn't come till after midwinter," George explained. "Thought it might take you a few months longer to recover from Rissa and Vina."

"We must have short memories," Dalton said, quite cheerfully. "Possibly we've gone mad."

"There's no possibly about it, lad."

"You do have a knack for instilling confidence," he told the grinning thief.

"Wait till you meet her," George predicted. "It will be like fallin' in love all over again—except without all the fighting. You won't forget that in a hurry."

MMMM

Selena and Jeck were married in the early morning and Wyldon hosted a small breakfast gathering afterwards in his chambers. Kel took advantage of the opportunity to ask Penelope and Dalton if they could take on another pair of squires in the spring.

Penelope bit her lip and they glanced hesitantly at one another.

"I'm afraid not," Dalton said finally.

Kel blinked in surprise. "Are you certain? Perhaps just one?"

Penelope shook her head. "I'm pregnant."

There was a long moment of silence during which Kel actually dropped her fork in shock. Vina squeaked and Rissa managed an astonished burp. Selena smiled in an unsurprised way and rolled her eyes at George. Alanna and Neal exchanged knowing nods. Dom shook Dalton's hand heartily and Jeck clapped him on the back.

"Oh," Kel whispered, leaning across the table to kiss Penelope's cheek. "This is wonderful."

Then Vina and Rissa launched themselves from their chairs, momentarily burying Penelope and Dalton in an expansive hug before peppering them with questions.

"A boy—"

" or a girl?"

Here, Alanna nodded her affirmation. And Neal nudged Dom in the ribs, mouthing, _inevitable. _

"Why didn't you—" Rissa continued.

"tell us straightaway?"

"And how come Selena knows already?"

"Only for a few days," Selena put in.

"But you might have told us you were going to…" Rissa shrugged happily. Both twins were too busy grinning to be truly angry.

"We thought you didn't want—" Vina muttered.

"When did this happen?" Wyldon murmured dazedly.

"I couldn't tell you exactly, sir," Penelope shot back cheerfully. "My best guess would be the night of that thunderstorm a few weeks after fall camp."

Wyldon choked on his toast and turned an astonishing shade of maroon under this onslaught of information. Jeck pounded him calmly on the back. George muttered that the night in question had probably been a "pleasant evening for everyone." Dom suddenly had a great deal of trouble swallowing and Kel plastered her fingers over her mouth. Dalton raised his eyebrows mildly and Vina and Rissa blinked with interest.

"Didn't I teach you not to answer rhetorical questions?" Neal demanded as soon he'd downed a few restorative swallows of brandy-laced tea.

"You made a few half-hearted attempts, sir, none of which were successful."

Dom glanced at Penelope. "That was deliberate provocation."

Penelope nodded. "Indeed." She didn't sound the least bit sorry.

Wyldon shrugged—an unaccustomed gesture—and murmured, "actually, it was rather preferable to Mindelan's unintended provocation."

Alanna turned disbelieving to Kel. "What did you do?"

"I believe my lord was looking for a delicate way to ask who Kefira's father was but he used the words 'how did this happen?'" Kel told her.

"And you answered?" Rissa asked, her eyes dancing with glee.

"Quite forthrightly," Wyldon added. "She nearly launched into an anatomy lesson. Perhaps I ought to stop asking imprecise questions of pregnant knights," Wyldon mused.

"I'm willing to wait a few years to be sure you've dropped the habit," Selena informed him. "I'm not sure I want to be the one to tackle 'why did this happen?'"

"I'm sure you'd come up with a suitable explanation," Jeck assured her. "But you might want to give him something for his cough beforehand?"

"Undoubtedly," Wyldon muttered, splashing a bit of brandy into his own tea.

MMMM

After breakfast, Penelope and Dalton wandered with Rissa and Vina to the practice courts, where Penelope beat Dalton at two duels before accusing him of holding back. He only shrugged guiltily in response.

"Told you," Vina muttered, elbowing Rissa.

Rissa, however, had gone suddenly pensive as she watched Dalton kiss Penelope's forehead.

"Tell me," she said. "Did we drive you to procreation—"

"Or keep you from it?" Vina finished.

Penelope and Dalton blinked at each other before answering together. "Both."

"That's because there were two of us," Rissa said, as though they'd made perfect sense.

Penelope nodded rather stiffly before announcing that she was in the midst of a "philosophical dispute" with breakfast and dashing away.

Rissa spotted one of her many male admirers a moment later and hurried to join him, leaving Vina and Dalton standing awkwardly at the edge of their practice court.

"I'm sorry," Vina murmured. "Now that I've earned my shield, I realize we must have been quite the cursed encumbrance."

"Occasionally." Dalton shrugged. "You two were a double-edged sword," Dalton muttered. "And you were almost always worth it." He smiled at the competent young woman whose life he had saved more than once over the past few—and who had occasionally saved his own. "And how is Vina these days?"

She grinned back. "Confident, sir, and quite content."

MMMM

"You appear to have started another trend," Neal told Kel as her family lingered with Alanna and George over third mugs of tea.

"I believe I'm rather more than a trend." Kefira brushed a few crumbs off her new page's uniform and stood to glare properly at her godsfather.

"Indeed?" Neal gazed steadily back at her.

"One might go so far as to call me the beginning of a movement," Kefira informed him.

"One might go so far as to declare you late for your afternoon classes if you don't hurry," Kel interrupted.

"But mama—"

Kel lifted an eyebrow, silently reminding her daughter of that she must remain above all hints of favoritism.

"Yes, lady knight." Kefira ducked her head politely and darted from the room.

"You know," George remarked. "I'd almost say Kefira has it harder than the rest of them and you're the one with the special advantage—as a parent."

"And to think she's mislead a couple of young knights into parenthood," Neal muttered. "What has she got to say for herself?"

"I am happy for them," Kel murmured, "but they have a long road ahead of them."

Alanna reached over and squeezed Kel's elbow. "Neither of us is in a position to comment." She glanced meaningfully after Kefira.

MMMM

"We've told Wyldon, so I suppose the worst is over," Penelope said, as they wandered back to their chambers that evening.

"You mean the best," Dalton told her. "I'm never going to forget his face."

And then they both laughed because they knew the best and the worst had only just begun.

_So there you have it. The End. Sad as I am to say goodbye to these characters, who have taught me so much about writing, I am looking forward to using the winter to clean up my novel for attempted publication and to writing it's sequel (eek!). However, I tried to end this story nineteen chapters ago (and we all know how that turned out). I really think it's done now, but I'm fairly certain I'll alleviate my January writer's block by posting a few one-shots. Meanwhile best of luck to everyone suffering through finals and happy holidays to all! And heartfelt thanks to the reviewers who have followed this story from the beginning—your comments and encouragement have really kept this story going (and kept me growing as a writer) through the years and your attention spans are seriously praiseworthy… Farewell and best wishes for winter writing and reading!_


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